Close Enough to Burn
by IPP
Summary: Kyle has been having a few problems at home. Sometimes, all it takes is a little understanding to push two close friends even closer. Kyle/Stan friendship, MxM later. In-Progress.
1. Chapter 1

**Close Enough to Burn**

by **icypinkpop**

Pairing: Kyle/Stan (Style)

Disclaimer: All character and series credit to the geniuses that are Matt Stone and Trey Parker.

Warnings: Angst, sap, gayness.

Author's note: Apparently, I will write fanfiction until I die. Every year I think I'm done for good, I go and write something else.

I've wanted to write another South Park story ever since I started my sophomore year of college last August. Being an engineering major doesn't give one much room to do any creative writing, and I've really missed it.

This will probably be 3-5 chapters. Enjoy, and please never hesitate to leave comments or criticism.

~o~

"Ugh. This early in the morning, Stan? Really?"

Grey-blue eyes rolled in their owner's head. Cursing, the boy in the orange parka tied a final loop in his bootstrings and hopped out of the window, shutting it behind him and shivering violently as the usual winter air whistled past through the half-darkness. Kenny looked down at the big wrapped box under his friend's arm, cheeks pink.

"That had better be worth it. I was having an awesome dream! Chicks everywhere!"

Stan ignored the telling grin and stepped back, boots crunching over the snow. "Trust me, dude. You know how early Kyle gets to school. We've got to beat him there." They had made the decision days in advance. Since the redhead was always in class at least fifteen minutes before it started, surprising him would take forsaking the luxury of sleeping in.

"It'll be worth it. C'mon." The two boys made their way up the hill and towards the rising sun, taking a straight course towards the musty yellow building that was South Park High. Stan couldn't hold his smile as he jogged to the red metal doors and yanked one open, scooting in beside his friend and heading for Room 12.

"I can't believe you never told me what you got him!" Kenny exclaimed as they strode up to the classroom door, opening it and stepping inside. As expected, the lights were on but every one of the desks was empty. "He's turning eighteen, man! I could've pitched in."

As Stan sat down in his usual seat at the back of the class, he turned and sent his friend an appreciative look. Kenny had always been the least fortunate of them, and he hadn't felt right asking him to pitch in for that kind of present. He had wanted to get his best friend something really big, but the equally big price-tag had made him hesitant in asking for financial help.

"It's okay, dude, really," he reassured and reached out, patting his friend on the back. "It's still from both of us. I put your name on it, see?" Reaching to the side, he held the box up into Kenny's line of vision, pointing out the permanent marker scrawled on the front of the red and green wrapping paper:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KYLE

From Kenny and Stan

Kenny grinned for a moment, only to send a wide-eyed look that left Stan momentarily confused.

"What about fatass?"

"Cartman?" Stan checked the clock. 7:33. Kyle would probably be there in less than ten minutes. He couldn't wait to see his expression. "What about him?" he asked as he tucked the box underneath his desk, planning only to get it out when it was time for the surprise. He had to admit, he was a little jealous. His friend was older than him by a couple of months, so he would get to turn eighteen first.

"Well, you know Cartman," Kenny replied and sat back, propping his legs up on the desk and pulling his hood down to expose his nest of hair that evidenced his rolling out of bed earlier. "He's gotta know its Kyle's birthday, too. What if he tries to fuck it up for him?"

A frown settled over Stan's face. "Then we aren't letting him," he replied cleanly, peeling his mittens off and tossing them into his backpack. He glanced at the clock again. 7:35. Kyle was going to be so freaking happy.

"What could he really do, anyway? We're gonna give Kyle his gift as soon as he walks in. Cartman probably won't even be here until the bell. He won't have time to do anything." He grinned. "I don't even think we should stick around." The look in Kenny's eye's confirmed that they were on the same page.

"You wanna ditch after lunch?"

"You know it!"

Stan leaned back, smile still on his face. They might as well go back to his place and try the gift out. He had a feeling it would be difficult to get Kyle to skip school, but the present might just be enough to change his mind...

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIING

Suddenly, he was surrounded. The black-haired boy looked around in surprise, eyes flicking across the many rows of seats, startled to see them filled. He had to have zoned out. He checked the clock again and stared in disbelief. 8:01. Brow twitching, he looked around the room to every occupied desk, slowly turning his head and locking eyes with Kenny as both looked to the single empty place between them.

"Dude?" he asked quietly. He wasn't here yet? Kyle was always early! Had he missed the bus? No, none of them took the bus anymore. South Park High was close enough for them to walk...

He shrugged at his friend and glanced back to the front of the classroom, watching stilly as Garrison (seriously, he was _still_ teaching them classes in high school?) approached his desk.

_Okay...He's officially late._ Stan lightly kicked the box under his desk with his foot. Maybe something had kept Kyle home late that day? Perhaps Mrs. Broflovski had made him a special birthday breakfast, or something. He doubted that Kyle would be hanging out with other friends. The strength of their bond had remained surprisingly solid over the years. They would have to give him his birthday present after class.

"Today we're going to continue with our discussion of the eighth and final season of Desperate Housewives. Now, as we explained last time, Gabrielle was still reeling from her stepfather's death..."

8:03. Shifting uncomfortably in his desk, he glanced back over to his blond friend, receiving a shrug in return. It was very unlike Kyle to be late to anything, especially school. First period was always a bunch of bullcrap, what with having to listen to Garrison prattle on about his favorite TV shows under the façade of it being a 'Modern Studies' class, but Kyle still always managed to show up promptly, which was less than could be said for Stan or Kenny. The redhead even faked taking notes sometimes, as ridiculous as they all thought the class was. Stan knew that his friend took his grades pretty seriously.

_That's why he needs to come get his stupid gift..._ he thought sourly, annoyed at whatever was taking Kyle so long to get there. It had to be someone's fault. Even when sick, his friend usually made it to class.

Suddenly, the click of a door latch jolted him from his thoughts and Stan looked over. What he saw sent him leaning back in his seat, pushing his black bangs out of his eyes to get a clearer view.

"Sorry, Mister Garrison." In stepped an exhausted-looking Kyle with dark bags under his hazel-green eyes, hat noticeably lopsided and exposing a few of his messy auburn curls. His posture was slumped and leaning slightly to his left, his slightly tattered backpack hanging over his shoulder on the same side. One of his shoes was noticeably untied, the laces tangled in themselves and laying on the floor.

"That's all right, Kyle. Take a seat."

Quietly, the newcomer made his way between the rows of desks, reached his seat between his two friends and, without giving either of them a second glance, slid into his desk and did the unthinkable. Stan just watched as the birthday boy sank down and buried his head in his arms, breathing turning slow and measured.

Predictably, Garrison continued with the lecture, appearing to have written Kyle's lateness off as normal teenage behavior. Stan, however, was at a loss for words as he watched his friend seemingly sleep straight through the talk, looking up at Kenny, who was having a similar reaction. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen Kyle looking so...drained. What the hell was wrong with him? He immediately glanced over and saw a familiar brunet sitting a few seats away, also looking over. Suddenly suspicious, Stan narrowed his eyes and turned, ignoring Cartman.

_I swear, if he has anything to do with this..._ Stan did his best to look interested in the lecture as it dragged on, frequently sending concerned looks to both his blond friend and the snoozing redhead. When the bell to end class rang, he heard the squeak of desk feet on the floor and turned. Kyle had seemingly just woken up and was sitting stiffly, staring at the front of the room and then glancing in the direction of the clock. Before either of the boys at his sides could think, he got up and listlessly dragged himself into the hallway, beating the rest of his classmates out.

"...Dude, we have to go talk to him." Stan stood up and hoisted his shoulder bag up with one arm. He snatched the wrapped gift under the other and headed for the door, turning to see that Kenny was flanking him closely.

"I can't right now," the blond replied guiltily. Stan stopped.

"What? Why not?!"

"I have to meet with Miss Hernandez," Kenny admitted with a sigh, one foot out in the opposite direction.

"...You're going to go flirt with her?" the black-haired teen asked in surprise, brow furrowing in annoyance. "You saw Kyle, right? Something's wrong!"

"Nuh-uh. About my grades. I have a meeting." Kenny stepped back, obviously afraid to be late. "She told me to go see her at nine sharp. I'm really scared to piss her off. She might fail me." Another step in the opposite direction, followed by a quick wave. "I'll see you guys in math, okay? Tell Kyle I'm sorry. Don't let him open his present without me there."

Understanding, Stan nodded and watched his friend barrel off. Realizing suddenly that he didn't know which direction Kyle had gone, he turned and strode along the hall with the heavy box still in tow, shoulder aching slightly from carrying it all the way from home, to Kenny's, and finally to school. _Where would he go?_

The lockers? Stan turned the corner and glanced, not seeing Kyle in the hall anywhere. He wondered what could be wrong with him. Was he sick? Had he gone somewhere to puke?

_The bathroom!_ Turning the corner, he headed to the blue door next to the drinking fountain and pushed his way in, using the extra weight of his bookbag and the wrapped box to shove inside more easily. He took a first look. Nothing. Nobody there. Sighing, he turned to leave when the sound of heavy breathing echoed over the tiled walls, stopping him in his tracks. He paused. It sounded the same as it had in the classroom...

Deciding to take a chance, he slowly followed the noise to the last stall on the left. What if it was someone else? He listened to the breaths for a few more moments, suddenly certain of his suspicions. He knew what his friend sounded like.

"Kyle?" The noise stopped. Stan stared at the stall door. A few seconds later, he heard a soft cough.

"Is Cartman with you?"

Relieved to finally hear his friend say something, he shook his head. "Nah. It's just me."

The door to the stall creaked open a few inches. Stan quickly reached out and pushed it completely aside, staring at the scene that greeted him. Kyle was leaning against the side of the stall, hat off and in his hand. The bags under his eyes were still present and dark. It startled the boy to see them so up-close.

"Dude...what's wrong with you?" he asked incredulously, reaching back and shutting the stall behind them lest someone else enter the bathroom. Upon seeing his friend the redhead seemed to relax a little, continuing to look up before his eyes drifted downwards. Stan followed the gaze, realizing he was looking at the package.

"Uh, happy eighteenth, man," he said with a concerned smile, raising the box up so he could see it. "Me and Kenny got you something. He wants to be here when you open it, though."

Kyle smiled slowly, relaxing Stan a little. "Thanks, Stan." For a moment, however, the greenish eyes fluttered and the Jew readjusted his position against the wall of the stall, agitating Stan's confusion.

"You look like shit," he blurted out and took a step forward, observing the grey visage. "Are you sick? Maybe you should get home and..." His friend tensed visibly and he trailed off.

"...I'm not gonna go home, Stan," Kyle refused outright. He straightened his position a little and, looking down as if to check for the presence of feet outside the stall, glanced back up at Stan with a glimmer of secrecy in his eyes, one that Stan recognized.

"Why not?"

A breath. "My parents are getting divorced."

Stan stepped back immediately. He looked at Kyle in shock, too startled to comment. Had he just heard that?!

"I heard them talking about it last night. I didn't get any sleep," the redhead revealed, collapsing into a yawn and slowly returning to his slightly pitiful stare. "They said they're going to get...the papers today. They don't know I know. I couldn't get...I was up all night," he admitted softly. Stan just stared back. Now that he looked, his friend didn't seem ill. He seemed exhausted. It made sense, but-

"Seriously?!" Realizing he had almost shouted, he quickly dropped the volume back down, not wanting to inform the entire school about what was obviously supposed to be kept between them. How could that be? Mr. and Mrs. Broflovski had always seemed to get along! At least, they had when he was around. A pang went through his chest as he watched Kyle yawn again, noting the tired look in his face. Stan remembered when he had turned ten, and his own parents had divorced. He recalled the confusion of it all, living with his mom in the crappy apartment for awhile, not getting to see his dad for weeks on end and just feeling...lost. Granted, he had been younger then, but he was sure he would feel pretty much the same if it were to happen now. They were back together, but he knew that was a rare occurrence. He hadn't been happy about that at the time, but looking back...he was glad they hadn't stayed apart.

Kyle nodded at him in affirmation. Stan gulped, adam's-apple flexing visibly in his throat.

"Why?!"

"I don't really know," his friend admitted quietly, rubbing an eye. "They've been fighting sometimes. I think they just...aren't working out anymore. They yell at each other about stupid stuff a lot. I guess they just don't want to live in the same house." There was an uncomfortable pause. "I don't want to go home today. I don't want...for them to tell me."

For a moment, they just looked at each other. Stan had to keep swallowing the lump in his throat. When he looked at Kyle, he saw the same expression he remembered seeing in the mirror all those years back. It had been a long time since he had seen it, but it was still familiar. He wouldn't ever wish it on his best friend.

"Dude...I...I'm really sorry." Stan stepped forward awkwardly, not sure how to express his sympathies. What could he say? The thought of Kyle sitting up in bed all night listening to his parents argue under the floorboards was making his chest ache. His friend knew he was there for him, didn't he? He knew he could come over to his house if he ever needed some time away, right?

"Can I have my present now?"

He blinked. Kyle was smiling, however pained it looked. Heart immediately feeling a little lighter, the taller boy handed the box over, watching his friend stagger with the unexpected weight.

"This is heavy!"

"Yeah. You can't open it, though. Kenny wants to be here for that." Stan purposely left out the fact that Kenny wanted to see what it was, that he didn't already know. He wanted it to be a gift from the both of them.

"Aw man, really?" Sighing, the hatless teen reached out and pulled the stall door open quietly, carrying his gift into the main part of the bathroom and turning, affixing his friend with a soft look.

"Thanks, Stan."

Stan returned the glance, knowing he wasn't just talking about the gift. He could tell that Kyle was still feeling down, but seeing him genuinely happy about his birthday present was a start. They could talk more about it later, if Kyle decided he wanted to. Right now, Stan just wanted to focus on making his best friend feel happy. You only turned eighteen once, after all. It was probably best to distract him from the sad stuff.

"It's okay, Kyle. Kenny was talking about skipping after lunch. Do you want to come to my house and open your present?" He didn't want to mention playing with it. That would give Kyle a hint as to what it was.

"Yeah."

Floored, he took a step back. Had Kyle just- The twinkle in the other's eyes confirmed it. Kyle was going to ditch!

The bell rang, the sound reverberating off the tiles in the bathroom.

"C'mon, let's get to math and get it over with."

Stan followed him out.

~o~

"...Okama GameSphere Two?!"

Kyle was knelt among the shreds of wrapping paper, eyes swollen up to a comical size. Stan had just enough time to grin and nudge Kenny's side with his elbow when he found himself suddenly bowled over, back to the carpet with an arm around his neck. He glanced over to Kenny in surprise, seeing his other friend in the same position as Kyle practically strangled them both with the tightness of his grip.

"DUDES! That thing costs...l-like three hundred dollars!" he cried into the carpet happily, embracing his friends with startling strength before sitting up and gazing at them both, obviously shocked. Stan just looked back happily, lips turning into a smirk.

"Yeah, well...I guess my best friend's the only one who's really worth it, then."

"..." The look on Kyle's face was priceless. Suddenly in a headlock, Stan twisted and glanced up at the blue eyes that were staring down at him, feeling a fist messing up the hair on the top of his head.

"Don't look at me, Kyle. Stan's the one that bought it," Kenny said honestly. Embarrassed to be singled out, Stan shrunk in a little bit and shoved Kenny off, reaching up to rub away evidence of the noogie.

"Don't worry about it, Kyle."

"Stan..." Kyle was clutching the box to his chest now, and the happiness in his grin had spread to his whole face. The addressed felt his own mouth turn up into a smile. After the earlier news, it was really good to see Kyle so excited. Hopefully he would be able to forget about his problems at home, at least for the day.

"Hey, you're eighteen now!" Kenny exclaimed as he reached out and patted Kyle hard on the back, face flashing with a sparkly grin with which anyone who knew Kenny was familiar. "You know what that means! STRIP CLUB!"

Stan snorted. "You aren't even eighteen yet, Kenny. That doesn't stop you." Kenny had numerous fake IDs. He had tried to get some for the rest of them on several occasions. For some reason, Kyle hadn't ever really expressed any interest in going to those kinds of places, and Stan hadn't really wanted to go alone with Kenny, so he had ended up refusing, too. Not to mention that he had still been dating Wendy at the time the blond had been making a big fuss about them having a "boys night out". Stan had had a feeling that Wendy wouldn't be too happy to hear he had been out doing things like that.

"No way, dude! I wanna play GameSphere!"

Glad his sentiments were returned, Stan scooted closer and helped Kyle dig through the box, taking the bundled cords from the plastic wrapping and setting them to the side. Hearing footsteps, however, he turned and glanced back over his shoulder. Through the door separating the living room from the hall, he watched the familiar figure stride aggressively down the stairs, blinking.

"Dad?"

"That's it, Sharon! All you do is bitch! I'm SICK of it!"

"Oh yeah?!"

Startled, Stan froze and watched as his mother, in her white robe, rushed down the stairs in hot pursuit, stepping up close to the other figure.

"Maybe I wouldn't have to _bitch_ if you would take some responsibility, Randy!"

Stan was suddenly aware that the rustling had stopped, meaning his friends were listening also. Uncomfortable, he gulped and continued listening.

"I'm not responsible, huh? I'm the one who puts the food on the table, Sharon! I'm entitled to spend some of my money!"

"Your money?!" His mother's voice was even louder now. "I work too, Randy! It's our money! We need to pay off Stan's dentist bill! Do you even realize how expensive that was?!"

"Just stop! Stop it!" Stan's hands went cold as he watched his father storm up the stairs, his mother staying at the bottom.

"Fine! Sleep in the guestroom!"

The angry footsteps died down a few moments later and Sharon slumped noticeably, turning and making her way into the kitchen, seemingly oblivious to the presence of the three boys in the next room over. Startled by the goings-on, Stan scooted back awkwardly and put his hands on either side of him, fingers digging into the carpet. His parents fought once in awhile, but it was rare, and usually wasn't quite that aggressive. He kind of wished his friends hadn't been there to see it. At least he knew for a fact that he wasn't the only one whose parents had problems sometimes. Kenny's parents fought a lot, and Kyle's...

Shit. What if Kyle had heard that and felt-

"Dude, I got it working."

He swiveled around, catching Kyle's eye briefly before his friend looked back to the TV. Stan turned his head, indeed seeing the start-up screen blaring a pleasant neon green back at him. Almost robotically, he picked up the second controller and clicked to start Two-Player Mode on the game Kyle had chosen from his collection in the cupboard under the TV.

Stan was grateful that the GameSphere One games he owned worked in the GameSphere Two. For the next few hours they took turns playing one another one-on-one, doing their best to keep score among them with every win or loss. Since most of the games limited them to two players at a time, the third usually resorted to hunting for snacks in Stan's kitchen while the other two were busy. When Kenny was the one on the sidelines, the blond had taken to stuffing chips and dingdongs into Kyle's and Stan's faces to distract them, cackling in amusement when they got shot or their cars flipped.

"Stan, stay there. I'm gonna check on the other side for enemy tanks," Kyle advised, approaching the chunk of in-game rubble and preparing to leap over.

"Huh? No, wait! I've got more ammo. I'll do it," Stan replied, eyes fixated on the screen, making sure Kyle's character was still in hiding. "If they shoot at me, I'll have a better chance." Tongue pressed into the corner of his lips in concentration, he took a breath and pressed UP to jump, all the muscles in his body tightening when he suddenly felt fingers enclosing in between his legs-

"AH!" He jolted and let go of the controller promptly, gunshots ringing out loudly from the TV speakers. Shaken, he twisted and shut his legs swiftly, greeted with the sight of his friend practically rolling in his hilarity.

"Hahahaha!" Kenny sprawled out on his back and grinned sassily, pointing at Stan as he looked at him upside down and winking as his body shook with laughter.

"GOTCHA!"

"What the hell?!" Huffing, Stan narrowed his eyes and glared, looking down at his empty hands and realizing he'd let go of the controller completely. Before he could speak, a loud series of gunshots and a "GAME OVER" boomed from the speakers, adding to his irritation.

"You made us lose!"

"Worth it!" Kenny dodged the punch to his shoulder by rolling out of the way, still seemingly struggling to breathe. Sighing, Stan turned back to look at Kyle, who, to his simultaneous joy and annoyance, seemed to be holding in some chuckles of his own.

"Look, man, don't you do that to enough people?" He sighed, leaning backwards on the arm of the couch. Maybe he didn't. Kenny's sex drive was relatively legendary in South Park, particularly among those his own age, who knew the kinds of things he did. Stan still couldn't quite get used to just how comfortable he was with teasing him and Kyle (and even Cartman once in awhile), though he usually went for people who he didn't know quite as well.

"You're no fun," the blond insisted and sat up, licking his lips. "You guys need to learn to let your hair down! 'Specially you, Stanley." He poked him in the cheek. Kyle was still snickering.

Rolling his eyes and smiling, Stan shook his head and glanced up at the clock on the wall, surprised. 1:05. "We...should probably get to bed," he realized, glancing back to his guests. He was starting to get a little tired, that was true, but mostly he was worried about his best friend. He couldn't let him get no sleep two nights in a row.

"Aw, man! It was just starting to be a party. I didn't even get to feel up Kyle!"

"That's okay with me," Kyle replied seemingly to both of them, dropping his game controller and flicking the OFF button on the TV. The room plunged into darkness and he stood up. Stan saw his friend watching him and looked back, realizing he hadn't yet made the offer.

"You can stay here tonight if you want, guys," he told both of them and moved the controllers aside, his tendency towards neatness showing briefly. Kenny quickly rushed to the sofa and began pulling cushions off.

"Dibs on the sofa bed!" Stan had forgotten that Kenny liked the sofa bed. He himself usually shared with Kyle, since Cartman never seemed to want anything to do with sleeping in Stan's bed and Kenny relished the idea of a full-sized, clean bed all to himself. The host opened the chest next to the couch and pulled out an extra blanket, tossing it at Kenny.

"Don't do anything gross in there," he muttered, smiling at his friend and turning to Kyle. Waving at Kenny's suggestive brow-wiggle, he made his way quietly up the stairs as he had done so many times before, Kyle tiptoeing up behind him, obviously trying not to make any noises that would wake Stan's parents. He opened the door to his bedroom and shut it lightly once they were both inside, glancing over at the sound of a yawn and watching his guest stretch, both arms in the air.

Kyle was obviously exhausted. Hopefully, he would be able to sleep through the night without interruption.

"Here." Stan pulled a grey shirt from the top drawer of his dresser and tossed it onto the bed. Understanding, the redhead wriggled out of his sweater and shirt, stripping down to his boxers and pulling the offered article over his head. Donning a shirt himself, Stan crawled immediately underneath the covers, the chill from the snowy night outside trying to settle in through the walls.

Kyle slipped in beside him and laid on his back. The image of his friend staring at the ceiling all night flashed in Stan's head again and made him nervous. Noticing that Kyle had yet to close his eyes, he shifted awkwardly and turned his head on the pillow.

"...You okay?"

Kyle turned over onto his side, locking eyes with him. Stan noticed that he was smiling, which was a relief, but the darkness on the pale skin under his eyes had yet to fade.

"Yeah," the other breathed in response. His lips twitched, and Stan found himself wondering if he was faking the happiness. He looked so tired.

"That was a...really awesome gift, Stan. Thanks."

"Oh. Uh, no problem," Stan replied with a dry coat, coughing into his first slightly and smiling back. He paused awkwardly. Kyle didn't look uncomfortable, but Stan felt like he should at least mention-

"I'm really sorry about my parents, dude," he admitted quietly, wincing a bit with guilt. "I don't know what they were fighting about. They usually don't do that." Wait, would that make Kyle feel even worse?!

Kyle looked surprised. He stared for a moment before breaking into a soft smile again. His curls scratched on the pillow as he shook his head in response, the relieved expression relaxing Stan's anxiety slightly.

"That's okay, don't worry about it." He paused to yawn again, the darkness under his eyes more noticeable now. Stan bit his lip.

"You should try to sleep."

"Yeah."

The black-haired teen watched his friend turn over onto his other side, and stared as he took a few deep breaths and finally stilled. Staying on his back, he waited for the slow, telling huffs of breath that meant his friend was asleep. After what felt like an hour, Kyle's breaths still seemed shallow, superficial and quick. Too quick to be evidence of sleep.

Kyle was still awake.

Sighing, Stan turned quietly onto his side. What a thing for his best friend to have to deal with on his eighteenth birthday. At least Kyle seemed to have had some fun earlier, when they had been playing on the GameSphere. _That's not enough..._

Stan knew that had to do something for Kyle. Kyle had always been there for him. He wasn't sure how hard the divorce would end up being for his friend, but he was sure that it wasn't going to be easy. He needed to do something to help get his mind off of it, something where he could just relax and have fun. Something a little more exciting than game night with snacks at his house.

_A birthday party..._ That was it! He could throw him a big party! He could invite lots of people from school. All the ones that Kyle liked, anyways. He could get lots of pizza and junk to eat, and his Uncle Jimbo would probably give him lots of beer with no questions asked. Stan smiled slightly. He couldn't help but wonder what a trashed Kyle would be like. They had only gotten mildly drunk before, and never with a lot of other people around.

He'd have to talk to Kenny about it in the morning. If anything was going to help get Kyle's mind off of his predicament, that was the best idea Stan could think of.

"Happy Birthday, Kyle," he muttered and rolled over, shutting his eyes.

~o~

Thank you for reading! More to come shortly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Close Enough to Burn**

by **icypinkpop**

Pairing: Kyle/Stan (Style)

Disclaimer: All character and series credit to the geniuses that are Matt Stone and Trey Parker.

Warnings: Angst, sap, gayness.

Author's note: Apparently, I will write fanfiction until I die. Every year I think I'm done for good, I go and write something else.

I've wanted to write another South Park story ever since I started my sophomore year of college last August. Being an engineering major doesn't give one much room to do any creative writing, and I've really missed it.

Edit: I think this story is going to be longer than I thought, and will probably top out at 5+ chapters. Please never hesitate to leave comments or criticism.

~o~

"Here we are, m'boy. Choose whatever you'd like!"

"Mmm- except the Jack."

Those words, in combination with the almost intimidating sight of hundreds of bottles of liquor, had resulted in Stanley's current predicament. Groaning, he heaved the hefty sack over his unoccupied shoulder and stiffly forced himself up the hill. He had known that Jimbo and Ned drank lots of beer, but he hadn't anticipated the variety of alcohol they would have at the ready. He had made out with a few flavors of schnapps, a couple bottles of vodka, some alcoholic cider, champagne, Bailey's Irish crème, and even some non-alcoholic drinks, including a two-liter of Pepsi and a six-pack of Red Bull. Needless to say, that kind of haul was a bitch to get home.

He paused to check his phone for the time. 4:30. It was still early. His parents had told him three days before that they had planned a short trip to Denver, and would be staying there from that day until Monday at a nice hotel with hot tubs in the rooms, or something like that. Stan had been a little relieved to hear they were having a getaway. Not only did it reassure him slightly after their fight the week prior, but it gave him the perfect opportunity to throw Kyle the best damn surprise party of his life.

Finally back on level ground, he set his heavy load onto the step and yanked his keys from his belt loop, letting himself into the house. He turned to shut the door behind him and froze mid-shove, blue eyes swelling up in size.

"Took you long enough! Pass one over." Stan beheld the living room as Kenny came over to relieve him of his bag. Not only was the place decidedly cleaner than it had been when he had left, but the entire atmosphere had changed. The usual plain, cream living room carpet had been mostly covered by a sleek black rug, and the television had been moved to one side of the room, Gamesphere hooked up and surrounded by what Stan realized were various beanbags and pillows from other rooms in the house. In addition to the gaming area, two short, white things that he couldn't identify were flanking a stool against the center of the wall directly across from the sofa. Stan walked up and realized that they were old shelves from his childhood, ones that had probably been collecting dust in the basement...On each shelf ledge were gathered a multitude of glasses, from his mother's wine glasses to the regular short cups his dad usually drank out of. To complete the atmosphere, several bowls filled with chips, candy and other snacks were set cleanly on the coffee table. The fireplace was already going strong, and had a large HAPPY BIRTHDAY KYLE banner hung from the ceiling directly over it.

"How did you carry all this?!" When Stan glanced over, Kenny smirked at him and held up one of the bottles of vodka triumphantly, looking slightly sweaty in his grey t-shirt and torn jeans.

"Can I throw a party, or can I throw a party?"

"...Dude! This is great!" When Kenny had said he would take care of setting up, Stan had thought that meant...ordering a pizza, or something, so the guests wouldn't starve later.

"I know, I'm awesome," the blond replied with a wink, pulling out a few more bottles and taking them over to his makeshift bar. He rushed from the room, returned with a purple sheet and draped it over the shelves, creating a surprisingly graceful silhouette and setting his vodka bottle on top to hold it in place.

"You think Kyle's gonna like it?"

"Yeah!" Stan was glad he had trusted this responsibility to Kenny. He was pretty sure some of the other rooms in the house were torn up, especially the beds, judging by the amount of scavenged pillows and blankets everywhere, but it didn't matter. He would have plenty of time to clean it up.

"How many people do you think will show?" Stepping back once they had stocked the bar, the taller boy tossed the brown bag onto the sofa and sat down, peeling his red gloves off.

"I sent out like thirty invitations on Facebook. Nineteen people accepted, the last time I checked." He took his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through for an update. "Twenty, now."

Kenny ran over and plopped down beside Stan with beer in hand. He grinned at the look he got, put his feet up, and popped the cap off with the bottle-opener on his keys.

"Who'd you invite?" he asked around the neck of the bottle.

"Bebe, Clyde, Craig..." Stan had to think for a moment. "Butters, too. I've never seen him at a party." He was inclined to feel bad for the kid sometimes. Butters wasn't exactly popular with most people, but Kyle liked him well enough, so that alone seemed to deserve an invitation. "Oh, uh, Wendy, too..."

"Ooooooh Stan." Kenny reached over and all but shoved the beer into his friend's face, nudging him in the ribs simultaneously. Stan shivered. "It's Kyle's birthday, not yours! Maybe you should try leaving the action for the birthday boy."

Stan shoved his friend in return and rolled his eyes. He and Wendy hadn't been a thing for a couple of years now, but it was still awkward seeing her at school. They didn't take many of the same classes together, but there wasn't really any avoiding someone when they were in the same year as you were.

"Shut up, Kenny."

"Whoa! Be nice to your bartender for the night." The sounds of glugging confirmed that the liquor stock was already starting to get used up. "Did you invite Cartman?"

"No way," Stan replied, raising a brow. Cartman still hung around them quite a bit, as he always had, but he was still as big of a dick to Kyle as he had been when they were young. With his friend's home situation the way it was, Kyle deserved a night of relaxation and fun, not Jew jokes and Cartman's overall brash insensitivity. Not that it usually seemed to upset Kyle, but Stan wasn't taking chances. The last thing he wanted was to see his friend upset at his own birthday party.

"You know he'd ruin it somehow."

"Probably~" Kenny yawned. "You know he's probably gonna show up anyway." The sofa cushions sank as the blond rolled onto them, looking at him upside down.

Stan sighed. He supposed that was true. Cartman always seemed to appear wherever the action was, whether he was wanted there or not.

"We'll just have to keep him away from Kyle," he decided and laid down alongside his friend, only then noticing the green and red balloons that covered the living room ceiling. He looked over his shoulder questioningly. Kenny smiled back, teal eyes sparkling.

"You only had Christmas colors."

DING-DONG

Startled, Stan sat up and checked the clock. 5 PM, on the dot. The party wasn't supposed to start for an hour. Hoping Kyle hadn't stopped over unexpectedly, he hopped off of the sofa and went to the door, opening it only slightly to avoid showing the decorated living room to whoever was waiting there.

"H-Hey, Stan."

A big box wrapped in purple ribbon was suddenly in his face. The addressed stepped backwards, looking down slightly at the blond boy who was, in turn, looking up.

"...Butters?" Relieved, Stan stood back a little bit and opened the door in welcome.

"You're kind of early, dude. The party doesn't start until six."

Butters stepped in shyly. "Oh, I-I know. I just didn't wanna miss out on the surprise," he explained, walking into the living room with his typical uncertain step. Stan watched his eyes light up, and Kenny waved at their guest from his lopsided couch position and chucked back the rest of his beer.

"When's Kyle gonna get here, fellas?"

"Not until everyone shows up," Stan explained. They had already worked out the plans earlier. "Kenny's gonna go out and get him and we'll turn off all the lights so he can't see us until he gets inside."

"O-oh!" Stan smiled a little at Butters' surprised look.

"Gee whiz, fellas, wh-why that sure is a swell idea. I can't wait!"

DING-DONG

Again?

Over the next forty-five minutes or so, Stan found himself opening the door frequently for guests. He was surprised that people his own age were actually making the effort to come early. Was Kyle really that popular? Come to think of it, he did have quite a few friends besides him, Kenny and Cartman. Kyle had recently become involved in the basketball team, which was something Stan hadn't really been interested in joining. The amount of people already showing up in his living room was evidence of how many friends Kyle had made lately. At that thought, Stan curiously felt a bit of a sour taste in his mouth.

By the time his phone read 5:45, the living room was already chock full of people sitting and standing around, some already working away at the snacks. Deciding it was a good time to put their plan into action, he turned and walked into the crowd, glancing to the bar and then around the room.

"...Hey Butters? Have you seen Kenny?"

"Oh, uh, he told me was gonna go get Kyle."

_Without telling me?_ Stan froze at the buzz that sounded out from his pants pocket. He reached in quickly and clicked to read the New Message that had popped up, heart catching in his throat.

_Me n Kyle two blocks away. Get ready~_

"...Guys!" Running into the center of the room, Stan waved his hands over his head and waited until he seemed to have everyone's attention.

"Thanks for coming, everybody. Kyle's almost here, so everyone crouch down and hide behind something. I'm gonna turn the lights off. Everyone say 'Happy Birthday, Kyle' when Kenny turns the lights back on, okay?"

He flipped the lights off and listened to the quiet shuffling of footsteps around him, kneeling by the sofa and holding his breath. Sure enough, a few moments later, the telling clank of the front door echoed into the living room. Stan gripped the edge of the sofa and tried his best to stay completely silent. He heard the two familiar voices, heart speeding up a little when his best friend's passed through the walls clearly.

"It's really dark in here!"

"Yeah. Stan's not home."

Stan grinned to himself.

"What do you have to get here anyway, dude?"

"I left my Spanish workbook in his room. I need to do my homework for Monday."

Kenny was a great liar. With the volume of their footsteps loudening, Stan could tell that they were getting close the living room.

"Huh? You could've photocopied mi-"

The lights went on. There was a short pause, and then-

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KYLE!"

In the doorway stood a smug-looking Kenny and the birthday boy, who, for whatever reason, wasn't wearing his usual green hat that day, and was staring at the mass of guests that had leapt out with an open mouth and a startled look on his face. His red curls were slightly frizzed, adding to the comical, wide-eyed expression he sported. Breaking into a grin, his best friend climbed out from beside the sofa and beamed, amused. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen Kyle look so surprised!

"Happy birthday, dude," he greeted and reached out, clapping the redhead on the shoulder as Kenny shifted behind them and took his place at the bar. Kyle stared at them all for a little longer, hazel eyes flicking around in obvious disbelief, gaze turning momentarily to Kenny before it settled on Stan. Music blasted out loudly, obviously due to the second party-planner's monopoly on the CD player, and Stan realized just how intently he was being stared at. He looked back with a smile, suddenly the recipient of one of the widest and most enthused grins he had ever seen directed at anybody.

"You planned this?!" Suddenly, Kyle was up and in his face. All of the air in his lungs was suddenly crushed out and he reached forwards, returning his friend's excited death-grip.

"Yeah. Me and Kenny."

"Stan! What the hell?!" Somehow able to hear his friend clearly over the roar of people chatting and the music, Stan laughed and stepped backwards when he was shoved playfully. In that moment, Stan realized his friend's cheeks were darkening to a shade that was almost as red as his hair. Somehow, he even felt like his own face was burning slightly in response.

"How did your parents let you do this?!"

"They're out of town," he admitted, still with a broad smile. "A lot of people brought you presents. They're on the fireplace." Pointing, Stan then directed his friend's attention over to the bar, where Kenny was already popping corks and caps like there was no tomorrow. Kyle looked even more surprised, if that was possible.

"Wanna get wasted?" A quiet pause. The two looked at each other sneakily. Neither of them had drunk that much at once before, and both of them knew it. Somehow, they hadn't ever really had the chance, but the prospect was pretty exciting. They were teenagers, after all. Stan wasn't too surprised about Kyle's lack of involvement in that type of activity, however. His friend tended to have relatively strong morals, and-

Kyle walked up to the bar. Jubilantly, Kenny handed him an open beer and tossed one over to Stan as well, brandishing his own up high in the air.

"Three cheers for the birthday boy!"

Kyle's face lit up further. A few people shouted and whistled as the three boys clinked their bottles together.

~o~

12:13. Stan didn't feel like the party had been going on for that long. How long was that, again? Three hours? Four?

Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he reached for his beer and picked it up, realizing by the lightness that it was empty. Kenny had poured him a couple of glasses of other stuff, including some kind of peppermint thing, but Stan had decided early on that beer was his favorite. Maybe he should get another one. How many had he had so far? Three beers? Four?

He sat up and squinted at the rest of the room, watching the goings on. The crowd seemed to have thinned out slightly. The distribution was different, also; instead of dancing and mingling about, most of the guests seemed to have retreated to the corners of the room, sitting in groups or talking in pairs. A slow song was playing, some kind of dull, throbbing hip-hop as opposed to the upbeat pop that had been blaring earlier. He could see Bebe against the doorway that led into the hallway, her long blond hair up in a ponytail and her hand in Clyde's as they talked, seemingly leaning in closer to one another as the seconds passed.

Stan sighed. He had been hanging out with Kyle up until a short time ago, watching Token and Tweek play Bloody Murder 3. His friend had gotten up at some point, though, and he hadn't seen him since... Not too sure how much time had passed since then, aware he was more than a little buzzed, he got up and walked slowly around the coffee table, avoiding the groups sitting on the carpet. He stepped past the bar and over a foot that was sticking out from behind it. Curious, he glanced back over his shoulder and was greeted by the sight of the boy in the orange hoodie and someone underneath him, caught off-guard by the moist, smacky sounds of tongue kissing and the two moving, blond heads. Not at all interested in who _that_ was, he looked away quickly and stumbled into the hallway instead, taking a breath and wiping the sweat from his brow.

He hadn't seen Kyle in there. Where would he have gone? Stan was aware that his friend knew his house as well as he did his own, so he supposed he might have gone upstairs or to the bathroom, maybe. He wouldn't have left, would he? It was a party for _him_, and he had seemed to be having a good time, the last Stan remembered.

He paused at that thought. Had something happened that he hadn't noticed? He was pretty alert, but the beers were distracting him a little bit. Stan hadn't been aware that getting trashed involved losing that kind of focus. Kyle had been at his side one moment, and the next... He remembered that Tweek had beaten Token.

"Kyle?" It was probably best to look for him. The worst that could happen was he might walk in on him peeing or something, right? Wait, maybe he had drank too much and gotten sick? Unlike Stan, Kyle had been tossing back shots of something yellowy-gold in color.

A little worried, Stan turned the corner and checked the kitchen. Nobody there. Chewing his lip, thirsty and tempted to go for another beer, he turned back out and glanced up the stairs. He was greeted by darkness, and the resulting realization that nobody seemed to have bothered to turn on any of the other lights in the house. Maybe Kyle had just gotten tired and gone to bed. It was pretty late, after all.

Stan ran a hand through his hair and realized he was hatless. When had that happened? He began to make his way up the stairs, surprised to see his feet fading in and out of vision as he looked down at them. His gut lurched and his head spun slightly. Why did he feel like this...? Groaning, he gripped the banister with two hands and forced himself up it slowly. Maybe he really had had too much to drink...

He heard voices. Turning his head back up, he made it to the top step and stopped for a moment to regain his balance, swaying on his heels. Was that Kyle?

"Dude, get off me..."

Had he heard that right? Stan's eyes looked slightly bloodshot. Following the muffled sounds as best he could, he dodged the banister and, after a moment of listening, staggered to the left and stopped.

Even in the darkness, he could see the distinct shapes of two people. One was recognizably Kyle, who seemed to be sitting beside the bathroom door with his curls a mess. Hovering over him, however, was someone larger. Someone who was leaning in pretty close...

"Fuck off, Cartman."

Stan stood still and rubbed his eyes. _Cartman?! _How had he gotten into the party?! He knew for sure that _he_ hadn't let him in. Someone else had to have done it...Or maybe he had snuck in sometime. The door had probably been unlocked all night.

_You know he's probably gonna show up anyway._

Kenny had been right.

"You stink like tequila, Jew." Stan blinked rapidly and watched the larger boy close in further. In the dimness, it looked like Kyle shoved him back and moved aside. Somehow, Stan swore he could see the whites of his eyes through the dark, and how they were glaring towards the intruder. He could feel his instincts kicking in to go make Cartman regret bothering his best friend on his birthday, but his knees seemed to have other plans. Shaky, he gripped ahold of the wall and stared. Both of the voices lilted awkwardly: further evidence of the influencing alcohol.

"So what? Let go of me."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you to watch your mouth, kike?"

"Shu-uhht it, fatass!"

"Make me!"

Before Stan's jaw muscles could allow him to grit his teeth, something happened. He pushed his dark hair out of his face and stared open-mouthed when the two forms converged, Kyle seemingly pinned underneath. He saw their faces together, suddenly, and the back of a brown head of hair as it moved. Vaguely, he was able to see Kyle's hand coming up, see the fingers grabbing the broad shoulder, see Cartman shift until the other was absolutely crammed into the corner. They moved at the same time, both straightening, faces still together.

His head swam, and his stomach dropped at the same time. Before he could step forward, Stan watched as his vision faded to total blackness, no longer allowing him to discern the scene at hand. There was a ringing in his ears, a dull one. Without the use of his eyes, his brain seemed to replay the previous scene several times, with special focus to the other long-fingered hand that had made it's way onto the side of Cartman's face.

He vaguely felt his cheek strike something, felt his feet go out from underneath him, and heard himself breathe.

~o~

_That's it, Sharon! All you do is bitch! I'm SICK of it!_

"Dude, get up."

Stan heard the echo of both voices in his head, groaning. He could feel a sharp pain settling in there, too, amongst all the garbled sounds...

_Maybe I wouldn't have to bitch if you would take some responsibility, Randy!_

"Seriously. You're already late." He was vaguely aware that he was being shaken. Head throbbing again, he turned over and tried to curl onto his side, sucking in a deep breath, wincing and twitching as the voices became louder...

_I'm not responsible, huh? I'm the one who puts the food on the table, Sharon!_

_Fine! Sleep in the guestroom!_

"AH!" He sat up suddenly. Feeling the blood rush from his head, skin feeling clammy and face breaking into a cold sweat, Stan looked up and stared momentarily at the teal eyes that gazed down at him. Something was wro-

His gut lurched and he arched forwards, throat burning and insides churning around restlessly. Suddenly gasping and choking, stomach twisting painfully as he clutched it, Stan coughed and sputtered and retched at the foul taste in his mouth, staring down at the cold glass that pressed suddenly against the tip of his nose. A few deep breaths later, he glanced back up at his friend who was staring right back at him, looking down disgustedly at the sick which, miraculously, Kenny had contained with what looked like a leftover party glass.

"Knew that'd happen." Stan felt a hand rubbing at his back and leaned into it, breathing slowly and trying to judge his body's current state. His head was throbbing and aching like never before, but his gut seemed to have calmed for the moment. Groaning, he rubbed at his eyes and blinked blearily, reaching out and putting a hand on his friend's knee.

"Th-thanks..." Coughing, he sat up a little straighter and took a moment to look around. He noticed that he seemed to be at the top of the stairs...For some reason, he glanced over at the corner. The bathroom door was open, but nobody else seemed to be there.

"What...the hell?" he asked the air, not sure what he was talking about. Something was wrong.

"Looks like you partied pretty hard last night," Kenny continued surprisingly sympathetically. He got up and Stan watched him make his way into the bathroom, staring wordlessly until he came back out and wiped his face with a cold cloth. It struck him as embarrassing, but he was afraid to make any sudden movements lest his body not agree with them, so he let the blond continue to touch him as he wanted. Kenny was very reliable and knew to take things seriously when they mattered. The plus was that he knew how to keep his mouth shut. Stan didn't think he wanted people knowing he had passed out trashed and needed to be cleaned up...

"Dude..." He pushed Kenny's hand away, head aching again. "Where...Is everyone gone?"

"Yeah, I checked. A few people passed out last night, but they all went home."

Stan suddenly felt anxious and sat up straighter, watching his friend with dark circles under his eyes.

"Where's Kyle?!"

"Huh? I dunno. Probably at school," Kenny replied with a little surprise. He reached into Stan's pocket and took out his phone before the boy could ask anything further, holding it up and showing him the screen.

Stan's eyes bulged slightly. 9:49. He should have known it was a stupid idea to have a party on a Thursday night.

"...I guess we're ditching?" he replied a bit scratchily and rubbed his eyes with his wrist, suddenly feeling hot. He heard Kenny's lighthearted affirmation in his ear and shifted, taking a breath and returning his phone to his pocket. Slowly, he put his hands on the carpet on either side of him and forced himself to his feet, startled to find his knees weak and grabbing onto the wall for needed support.

"Whoa, take it easy. Last night was probably the first time you've gotten trashed, huh?"

Stan noticed with annoyance that Kenny, though he recalled him drinking quite a bit, seemed to be perfectly awake and able-bodied. Not answering, he took a couple of shaky steps and glanced back at his phone out of habit, spotting an alert in the corner and slowly padding at the touch screen with his thumbs. It took him a couple of tries before he managed to tap the correct button.

NEW MESSAGE

KYLE

"Kyle texted me," he muttered in surprise, body starting to feel cold, suddenly, when it had been overly warm moments prior. He remembered. Last night, he had seen Kyle up the stairs, next to the bathroom, with Cartman...He had sworn it was Cartman at the time. Maybe he had imagined it? He read the message.

_Hey, dude. You okay? _

Stan bit down his lip. Kyle had to be at school, and had noticed that he wasn't there yet. When had his friend even gone home? The night before? Or had he left Stan's house earlier that morning?

"I''ve gotta get going."

Kenny looked noticeably surprised as Stan stood up and dragged himself to his bedroom. He rustled in his dresser for a clean top pulled off his sweaty tank from the night before, replacing it with an old sweatshirt from freshman year.

"Why? You're really hung over, man," the blond pointed out, sitting on the bed behind him. "You should just sleep all day and wait for it to wear off. Eat some cereal."

"No way." Stan's aching head pleaded with him to take the advice. Stubbornly, its owner shrugged on the usual brown jacket and red gloves. His hat was surely somewhere, but Stan wasn't going to bother trying to find it at the moment. Waving to his friend, he snatched his keys from the hook beside his bedroom door and left without another word, leaving his backpack forgotten by the bedside table. He wasn't planning on staying all day. He just needed to talk to Kyle.

The teen kept an eye on his phone as he dragged himself across each block, down to the familiar building and up to the front doors. He stepped inside quietly, unsurprised to see the halls empty since it was still technically class-time, and strolled slowly past the lockers. It was only five minutes until the end of third period. He and Kyle both shared a study hall during that hour, so he just had to wait for him to get out.

Stan suddenly recalled the vision from the night before, face reddening slightly as he made his way to the correct classroom and waited next to a trashcan outside the door. It hadn't been a dream, had it? He swore he had seen Cartman there, leaning over Kyle. If it had been a figment of his imagination, his best friend had been acting exceptionally in-character. Well, notwithstanding the part where he'd grabbed the bastard's face and-

RRRRRRRING

"Agh!" His hands went up to hold his throbbing skull. Turning around, trying to escape the noise, Stan groaned and collided blindly with something that sent him staggering backwards. He stared up, dazed, and found himself looking at the very person he had been thinking of moments before.

"Dude? You came to school today?"

When he looked up at Kyle's face, Stan thought for a moment that he was looking in a mirror. Dark circles under the eyes, a pale face, and hair messy and frizzy over his forehead and around his cheeks. There was also, to his surprise, a red scarf wrapped around the ginger's neck and tied under his chin. He noticed wordlessly that his hat was still missing but didn't wonder about it for very long, instead reaching out and snatching his friend by the hand before turning and heading quickly in the general direction of a bathroom. However startled Kyle was by his actions, he didn't fight his grip and followed along behind him without struggling. Stan could feel his friend's fingers twitching as he yanked him into the restroom and promptly let go.

"What the hell, Stan? What are you doing here?" Kyle took his hand back. The dark areas under his light eyes were more visible than before in the slightly dimmer light of the bathroom. Stan, suddenly realizing that he was zoning out with the throbbing pain in his skull, shook his head and blinked rapidly to clear his vision.

"Me?" he replied, pointing. "Look at you! You look just as bad as I do!"

Kyle's shoulders sank down with a sigh.

"Yeah...I feel like shit," the redhead admitted quietly, surprising his friend by sending him a little smile.

"That party was awesome, though. Thanks, Stan. You didn't have to do that for me."

"Uh..." Stan rubbed his temples momentarily, recalling suddenly what he had wanted to talk to Kyle about so badly. He reached out, snatching him by the first thing that caught his eye: the red scarf that unraveled from Kyle's neck slightly when he pulled it. Suddenly, startlingly quickly, the redhead reached up and caught it, preventing it from coming loose.

Stan opened his mouth to say something but faltered. It was familiar. It was a knitted scarf, with little braided strings at the end...

"Dude, my grandma made me this...This is my scarf," he realized all of a sudden and looked up, confused by Kyle's expression. His friend had a tight grip on the fabric still around his neck and was pulling, his bottom lip tight between his teeth.

_What the hell?_

"Yeah, u-uh...I borrowed it." The excuse was hurried. Stan kept his grip on it curiously, watching Kyle pull a little more desperately. "I was cold when I woke up this morning at your house...before school...I'll give it back tomorrow."

Unlike Kenny, Kyle wasn't a very good liar. Another tug. Slowly, a bad and creeping feeling was beginning to make its way down his spine. Suspicious, not sure of what, however, Stan followed his instincts and remained still for a few seconds, only to thrust his weight back suddenly, yanking the scarf free.

"HEY!"

He felt back with the fabric in hand and stared, suspicions solidifying when Kyle quickly covered one side of his neck with his hands. Stan immediately recalled the night before and went stiff, instantaneously remembering.

_Didn't anyone ever tell you to watch your mouth, kike?_

Without thinking, he snatched Kyle's wrist and pulled it loose with one firm tug, zoning in immediately on the side he had been hiding. Steel-blue eyes went from the front of the pale throat to the dark, purple-blue crescent marks that scalloped plainly under his friend's ear and jawline.

Stan stared silently into the horrified look he was receiving. That looked like...No, no way. There was no way.

Kyle's expression turned flat. Before Stan could muster any reaction other than blank, wordless staring, his companion rolled his eyes and leaned back against the paper towel dispenser next to the sinks, shoulders slumping as their eyes met. The ginger shook his head before leaning it against the wall tiles, suddenly looking especially tired.

"God damn it."

~o~

Due to Stan and Kyle's close friendship, I find it difficult to write a romantic relationship between the two of them. Therefore, I hope you will forgive me for building up to this part of their relationship. In response to a kind reviewer, yes, it will get there! I enjoy a challenge.

Thank you very much for reading! Stay tuned for more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Close Enough to Burn**

by **icypinkpop**

Pairing: Kyle/Stan (Style)

Disclaimer: All character and series credit to the geniuses that are Matt Stone and Trey Parker.

Warnings: Angst, sap, gayness.

Author's note: Apparently, I will write fanfiction until I die. Every year I think I'm done for good, I go and write something else.

I've wanted to write another South Park story ever since I started my sophomore year of college last August. Being an engineering major doesn't give one much room to do any creative writing, and I've really missed it.

~o~

"Dude..."

When he had been heading for school that morning with the intention of tracking Kyle down and questioning him, Stan had assumed that his memories of the night before were the results of being completely and totally hung over. Kyle, he had expected, would be justifiably surprised by his hallucination and would tell him he needed to go back to bed and get some sleep before he went any crazier. Stan was sure that he would have laughed and followed that advice, too. He was pretty fucking sure he couldn't do that now, though, not with-

"What the hell is that?!" His friend wasn't bothering to cover it up anymore, leaving the blue and purple marks totally visible under the arch of his ear. All at once, the fuzzy memories surged clearly back into his subconscious. His mouth was dry.

"Look, Stan, it's not a big deal." Through his incredulity, he realized that Kyle's cheeks were red. To his surprise, however, his friend was standing stiffly with his shoulders hunched and his back stiff, his hands in fists at his sides. What, was he mad at him now? Had he seen something he wasn't supposed to?

"Like hell!" he replied dryly and pointed dramatically to the marks. "You totally got that from Cartman!"

It was Kyle's turn to look surprised. Then, suddenly,

"You _saw_ that happen?!"

"Yeah, dude!" Stan replied quickly, practically shivering with discomfort. Not only did the implications of that freak him out, but that was...GROSS! Gross gross gross-

His head hit the tile behind him painfully. Frantic, he reached out and found one of his wrists pinned to the wall, head snapping up quickly to meet one of the angriest pairs of eyes he could ever remember having seen.

"You _saw_ that and you didn't freaking help me?! What the fuck, Stan?!"

"...H-Help you?!" All the fire died out of his blood. Eyes large, Stan swallowed and continued to watch his friend seethe down at him with a look he recognized, one that said "I'm angry, but I'm mostly upset."

"What...?"

"You said you saw it!" Kyle's grip on his wrist wasn't as tight anymore, but his friend still had him in a staring contest. "Why didn't you tell that fat cunt to fuck off?"

Okay, now Stan was sure that he had no idea what was going on. Was Kyle trying to lie about it?

"Dude...How am I supposed to save you from making out with Cartman?" he asked quietly, not really sure what else to say. Suddenly, his arm was at his side and Kyle was nearly pushed up against the opposite wall. His friend had his hands out and was staring at him like he had just threatened to kill his mother, or something.

"...MAKING OUT with Cartman?!" Stan would have laughed if he hadn't been so incredibly jarred by the situation. He had never heard Kyle sound so disgusted. But-

"He was practically _laying_ on you, man!" He gestured back to the evidence on his friend's neck. He certainly had never even thought about Cartman in that kind of...way, and the mere thought of his best friend being involved in that somehow was just...

"Eugh! Stan! Gross!" Stan looked back over to see his friend shaking all over, seemingly trying to shake something off. Kyle slumped visibly and spread his arms out wide, brows furrowed upward in an expression of disbelief and obvious shock. "Are you _kidding_ me?! SICK!"

Stan watched, lost. "But..." He coughed. Kyle wouldn't carry a lie this far...right?

"I saw it."

"Dude! I was trying to get him _off_ of me!" Still looking revolted, Kyle quickly went over to one of the sinks and began to splash his face messily with water. "Do you seriously think I would do that with Cartman?!" he groaned, aggressively pushing the lever and snatching the wads of brown paper towels that dropped from the bottom. Stan watched mutely as his friend dried himself off and turned back around.

"...What?" Get him off of him?

"He was totally trashed," Kyle grumbled in response. "I was trying to go use your bathroom and that asshole cornered me...Where the hell were you?!"

Realizing after a few moments what he meant by that, Stan wiped the sweat from his brow. A feeling of relief was beginning to settle in him, causing his muscles to loosen. He hadn't been making out with Cartman, after all?

"Uh...Watching near the stairwell," he admitted, suddenly realizing how completely terrible that sounded. He held his hands up quickly and shook his head.

"Dude, I thought...I thought I was walking in on you, or something. It freaked me out. I was really drunk," he admitted, daring to let out a chuckle. He should have known. There was no way Kyle would let Cartman do what he had thought they were doing.

"So was I." Suddenly, his friend marched over and Stan watched his friend thrust a hand out and smack him directly in the chest. Kyle still looked pretty horrified, which soothed Stan even more this time. "But I'd have to be totally incapacitated to make out with _Cartman_!" Sighing, the Jew seemed to calm down a little and looked up. Realizing that he was looking in the mirror, Stan followed his eyes to the bruised bites on his neck skin, suddenly feeling guilty. He should have known and helped him. The alcohol had to have made him paranoid, or something.

"Why the hell do you think I'm trying to cover this up? You think I want everybody asking me what happened?" Understanding and practically feeling his friend's disgust through the space between them, Stan stood straighter and stepped forward. Without another thought, he wrapped his arms around the other and hugged him awkwardly against the front of his body, resting his chin on his shoulder. Kyle felt stiff initially, but, to Stan's relief, seemed to relax after a few moments. It took a minute, but eventually he felt Kyle's arms around him, too, and smiled at his own reflection in the mirror across from him. It was amazing, the kinds of things that could turn out to be stupid misunderstandings.

"I'm really sorry, man," he admitted quietly, somehow not quite feeling like he should break the hug just yet. He still felt guilty. "I guess it wasn't such a good idea to get trashed. Me and Kenny said we weren't gonna let Cartman into the party, anyways. We didn't invite him."

"Why not?" Kyle's voice came dryly in reply, tinged with obvious sarcasm. "Because you were afraid I'd get into his pants?"

"..." Stan snorted and tried not to laugh. Kyle's bitter tone was just what he had needed to hear. He shifted his grip slightly but stayed put and gave his friend a bit of a squeeze, breathing in deeply. Kyle smelled familiar. That was weird. It was almost like...His shampoo? Had his friend used the shower that morning before leaving for school?

"Nah. We just didn't want him ripping on you, like he always does."

"Uh..." Surprised by the sound of uncertainty, Stan released Kyle from the embrace and stepped backwards slightly, still within range of the slightly soapy smell of Kyle's hair.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't think he'll be ripping on me for awhile," his friend replied. Over his face, to Stan's complete confusion, appeared a sharp little smile, the kind that Kyle was known to have when something had gone completely his way. Clueless, he just looked back, only to jump slightly when-

RRRRRRIIIIIINGGGGGGGGG

"...I'm gonna ditch," Kyle admitted, reaching up and rubbing at his temples as he stole the red scarf back from Stan's hand and re-wrapped it around his neck, hiding the marks. "I already turned in all my homework. I'm gonna go get ice cream."

Unable to help but smile, Stan nodded in agreement and followed him out of the bathroom. "I'll come too. Wanna go to Willie's and get lunch first?"

Kyle turned around and smiled at him.

"I think you should stay at school for another couple hours," he replied cryptically, the same little grin still on his face. Stan blinked.

"Why?"

"Maybe you should just...say hi to Cartman." Inexplicably, Kyle winked at him. Stan stared. "I still have some worksheets to do. I'll meet you at Willie's at noon." Stan watched his friend walk off down the hall, completely stumped. Say hi to Cartman? What sense did that make? Did Kyle need to be alone? Was he upset? He seemed happy enough.

Sighing, he reached for his phone and checked the time. He hadn't brought his backpack with him since he hadn't anticipated going to class, but he supposed he could sit in on math and see what might be on the final exam that was coming up, if nothing else. Confused, Stan stepped down the hall and quickly checked his locker, taking out his algebra book and shutting the metal door with a CLANK.

"'Ey, watch it, hippie!"

Stan looked up. Glaring right back at him from the next locker over was a pair of angry brown eyes, one of which was smack in the center of a purple, almost black bruise that went from the middle of its owner's forehead to halfway down his cheek on the same side. He stared for a minute before straightening. It all made sense to him now. Slowly, he grinned until his teeth showed, shoulders shaking a little with the laughter he was trying to hold back. Kyle had been right. It was too perfect NOT to take his advice.

"Hi Cartman," he replied smugly. How could he have ever doubted Kyle?

"Fuck off."

As the brown-haired boy walked brusquely off in the opposite direction, Stan couldn't believe he had missed the making of that beautiful black eye.

His best friend was so awesome.

~o~

"Stan, did you get your grades yet?!"

Practically ambushed the moment he stepped out from the doors, Stan slid a little on the ice that covered the top step and put his arms out to balance the extra weight hanging off him. He shoved Kenny away and held up the manila envelope in question.

"Yeah. I haven't looked yet. I just wanted to get out of there," he admitted. It was the last day of school. Why South Park High had to have its final exams in the first week of June while other schools in Colorado seemed to get out in early to middle May, Stan had never understood. Today, however, had been his very last exam of Junior year. He had waited the extra three hours in the cafeteria for it to be graded, and for his final roster to be printed up. Just one year left, and he and his friends would be official graduates.

"Whaat?!" Stan scrambled down the steps as the blond boy grappled for his grades, holding them away from Kenny and managing himself down to level ground.

"Dude, chill out. What'd you get?" he asked. The blond smiled and held up his own envelope, waving the crinkled thing slowly back and forth.

"Show me yours, I'll show you mine. Heheh."

Rolling his eyes, Stan ignored the naughty comment and exchanged his own envelope for his friend's. He scooted to the side of the steps to avoid running into others leaving the building and opened the envelope, slightly nervous. As witty and sharp as Kenny was, there were some subjects that he didn't do so well in without help. He really didn't want to find out that his friend had been held back and wouldn't be able to continue on into senior year with them the next fall. Gingerly, he opened the envelope and pulled out the paper, eyes raking over the letters.

CHEMISTRY- C

WRITING & COMPOSITION- B

HISTORY- C

MATH - D

SPANISH – B

"Whoa, Stan! That tutoring with Kyle's been helping you out, huh?"

Stan looked up smiling from the passing grades in his hand, scooting over next to Kenny and taking a glance at his own. He widened his eyes. All Bs, save for an A in Writing & Comp. He was used to mostly Bs and the occasional C, so that was more than good enough for him. Quickly, he and Kenny sent one another bright smiles, the latter patting the former hard on the back with his hand.

"Congrats, man! We're going to senior year together!"

"Yeah." Stan handed Kenny's transcript back, taking his own and stuffing it into his backpack. "I guess Kyle's tutoring helped you, too." Last year, Kenny's final grades had all been Ds. They had all been kind of worried about that, not wanting to leave their friend behind in sophomore year, so Kyle had been spending time on weekends with both Kenny and Stan to tutor them on the classes that they both hated the most. Stan paused in realization.

"Dude, where is Kyle?"

"I texted him earlier," Kenny replied, stuffing his own grades away with a pleased look still on his face. "He said he finished his last final this morning at nine, and went home."

Stan swung his backpack on over his shoulder, stepping in the direction of the road. "Well come on, dude! Let's go see him!"

"And have to compare my grades to those? Aw man, way to break my balls!"

Both boys laughed as they rushed down the slope of the hill and into the main part of town, darting across the narrow streets and taking the cuts through alleys that they both knew like the backs of their hands. Spotting Kyle's roof from far away, Stan hopped up on a trash can and barreled over the metal fence in the alley, skidding across the street to the sidewalk and heading, out of habit, towards Kyle's back gate. It was normal for them to get into each other's houses through bedroom windows. It kept their parents from being annoyed when they visited late at night, since this kept them from having to ring doorbells, and such, not to mention that sneaking in was more fun than announcing one's entrance. Thus, Stan darted for the backyard gate and paused, suddenly faced with several stacks of large cardboard boxes. Confused, he stepped backwards and glanced over to his blond friend beside him, only then turning and noticing the large, white and orange truck that was parked beside the Broflovski mailbox.

"Uh..."

"Hello, boys."

Both looked up. Standing by the front door was Sheila Broflovski with an envelope in one hand. Suddenly feeling awkward, Stan stepped backwards and licked his lips, slowly putting the pieces together in his brain.

"Hi Mrs. Broflovski," he replied quietly. Suddenly, a man in a baseball cap approached and she turned to focus on him instead, tucking the envelope into his shirt pocket.

"Thank you very much for helping, Jim. There's your payment."

Stan's eyes moved back over to the gate, where the boxes seemed to be gone. He turned his head and looked over to the open back of the truck, staring at the piles of boxes and bags that had been loaded into the bed.

"Are you two here to see Kyle?"

"Yes ma'am," Kenny replied smoothly as always. Sheila looked at the both of them with an expression that had some obvious tiredness in it and stepped away fro the door. Stan shifted, uncomfortable. That was a moving van.

"He's in his bedroom. He brought his final exam grades home earlier this morning. I'm sure he'd like to see you both."

Stan thanked her quietly and went in through the door before the situation could get any more awkward. Glad that he didn't see Mr. Broflovski anywhere, he went to the hall and turned towards Kyle's bedroom. In the past couple of weeks, he and Kyle hadn't talked much about Kyle's parents, except for when his friend had mentioned that his parents had finally told him formally about the divorce. Stan and Kenny both knew about it now, but, as far as they knew, it was a secret between the three of them. He hoped Kyle was okay. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and knocked on the familiar bedroom door.

They waited. After about a minute and a couple more knocks, they looked at one another. Was Kyle asleep? He wasn't a very heavy sleeper.

"Maybe he's jacking off."

Stan snorted and shook his head at his friend, knocking again. Kyle wouldn't be doing that...right? When nobody answered after a couple more seconds, he began to feel a little stiffer. What if Kyle was upset about the moving stuff outside? He really, really hoped his friend wasn't crying in there, or moping. Today was their last day of school before summer started. It was supposed to be a happy day.

"...Dude, the boxes are gone. C'mon, let's look in through his window." Deciding it wasn't a good idea to bring this up with Kyle's mother, Stan beckoned to his blond friend and went quickly back out the front door and to the back gate. He undid the latch and ducked in after Kenny, toeing up to Kyle's window and staring at the blue curtains that obscured most of the room from view. Shit.

"Hey, you can kind of see in," Kenny answered his thoughts and sidled up close to the glass, peering in through an inch-wide space between the curtains that were hanging on the inside. Curious, Stan pushed up closer and craned his neck to look in over Kenny. He couldn't see very much. He could make out the end of Kyle's bed, some of his closet, his dresser, the door-

It opened. Stan watched quietly as the object of his perplexity stepped into the room and closed the door, immediately recognizing Kyle's fire-engine-red curls and pale...chest and stomach? On closer inspection, there seemed to be a towel around his hips. He watched his friend sit down on the edge of the bed and begin rubbing his legs and chest with the cloth, realizing something.

"Dude...He was taking a shower." Stan rolled his eyes, feeling like an idiot. No wonder he hadn't responded to knocking. Feeling a little awkward, he looked away from his friend and stepped back.

"We can go back up and knock now."

"Eheheh..." Kenny was still glued to the window. Realizing what was going on, Stan quickly snatched his friend by the hood, yanking him back.

"Dude! Don't watch him get dressed!"

"Shh! He's gonna hear us!"

Stan looked back up at the window. He didn't want Kyle to think they were spying on him, although it was totally something Kenny would do... Shaking his head, he tugged the peeper back a little more and turned, only to see the curtain open from the corner of his eye. Kyle was staring out at the both of them with wide eyes.

"Ahh!" Stan watched his friend leap back before Kyle's shocked expression turned into a frown. He looked away quickly and then back over when he heard the clank of the window sliding open, watching the redhead readjust his towel around his hips with a few mutters.

"What the hell? You could've used the front door."

Kenny laughed as he stood up and ducked in through the window. Stan followed with a bit of an amused smile, kicking his boots off. He knew how Mrs. Broflovski was about the carpet...not that she was necessarily going to live there anymore.

"We thought of that, but we couldn't spy on you that way!"

Laughing when Kyle shoved Kenny and sat down, Stan sidled up close to his friend and sat beside him on the edge of the mattress.

"We came in and knocked on your door, but you didn't answer."

"Gee, I wonder why not," Kyle replied and shook some of the moisture out of his hair. Stan's smile quirked up a bit as he watched his friend wipe some droplets from his cheek with his forearm. Maybe it was his imagination, but Kyle's face did look a little tired. Granted, they had been studying pretty vigorously for finals in the days prior...

"Dude, did you get your grades? Me and Kenny passed everything," he recalled and smiled. His heart lifted a little when Kyle smiled back at the both of them, even though the grin looked sort of heavy.

"Congratulations, guys." Kyle pointed over towards his immaculate desk, standing up and drying off a little better. "It's over there." The blond got up and went over to pick up the envelope sitting on top. He brought it back over and plopped down beside Stan, pulling out the white sheet from inside and staring for a few moments before turning and pouting flatly at his dark-haired friend.

"What'd I tell you?! You're crushing my nuts here, guys!"

Stan looked at the paper curiously, eyes widening. All As. He shouldn't have expected any less from Kyle, but seriously...

"Wow, dude. Awesome job," he said and looked up, looking at Kyle, who by this point had pulled on some dark pajama pants and sat beside Kenny with his chest bare. Proud, he reached out to shove his friend's shoulder jovially, surprised not to see Kyle smiling back at him. He seemed to be looking at the floor, and his hazel eyes looked a little greener than usual. Stan bit down on his lip. Was it like he'd thought? Was Kyle upset over the divorce?

"We should celebrate," Kenny broke the silence with a sensitive tone, seemingly able to read the mood. Stan watched him touch his best friend's side, only to watch in surprise as Kyle shifted away and stood back up. He caught eyes with him, startled to see his friend look away immediately. "Want me to get us some beers?"

"Look, dudes. It's really cool that you came over, but I'm tired..." Kyle took a deep breath and fidgeted where he sat a little bit. "I've been studying really hard for finals and it's really...taken it out of me. I'm gonna go to bed early." As if to make his point, he yawned and stuck his arms out in the air. Stan idly noticed the small sprinkling of freckles over the insides of his elbows and arms, looking back up.

"Okay..." He sent Kenny a look and they both got up. He had really been hoping to celebrate the start of summer with Kyle. Stan's eyebrow twitched with irritation. Suddenly, he was angry with both of Kyle's parents. How did they have the right to do that, to mess with Kyle's life?

"Hey, Stan."

Stan looked back over. Kyle was watching him with a weird look on his face.

"Do you wanna...Can you stay for a few minutes?" An apologetic look was directed over his shoulder. "Sorry Kenny."

"Aw, man." The blond stepped over towards the window, pouting visibly. "I don't get to watch you guys get naked? I guess I'll have to wait 'til we go swimming at the lake sometime."

Stan scoffed and smiled a little awkwardly, receiving an understanding grin in return and watching their friend hop out the window with a departing wave. He always appreciated Kenny's powers of sympathy. As close as both he and Kyle were to Kenny, Kenny usually seemed to understand that the bond between Stan and Kyle was the strongest one, and he tended to respect it.

Concerned, Stan looked back at Kyle and stepped over wordlessly, sitting down next to him and looking over.

"What's up-"

BUZZZZ

He looked down, feeling vibrations against his leg. Realizing his phone was still on silent from when he had set it earlier before his last exam, he pulled it out and glanced at the Caller ID on the screen.

HOME

"Hello?" Stan wondered which of his parents was calling.

"Hello, Stanley, it's your mother."

"Hi, Mom."

"Where are you? I thought your last exam ended a few hours ago."

"Yeah, it did." He rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I'm just hanging out at Kyle's."

"All right, well- Just a minute, Stanley."

Stan heard the vague and fuzzy sound of the receiver being covered, blinking a couple of times in surprise. It wasn't really like his mother to set the phone down in the middle of a conversation.

"Randy, I'm on the phone."

"Yeah, never have time for me, do you, Sharon?"

A clunk sounded over the receiver and Stan stiffened, aware that the phone had been set down. He felt eyes on him and glanced over at the pair of eyes that were looking back, swallowing. Was he hearing things? They couldn't be fighting again...

"Don't you interrupt me when our son is on the phone!"

"Oh yeah? Maybe you should tell him about how we can't afford to get him the truck this year ever since YOU got fired!"

His blood began to run cold and he looked away from Kyle quickly, shifting on the corner of the bed as he listened. His parents had always mostly gotten along, from what he remembered. They had their spats now and again, like he was sure most couples did, but the infrequent fights had been becoming more and more usual over the past few weeks. He had thought it was just a rough patch, that it would let up, but-

"Maybe if you were a little more SENSIBLE with our money, we could afford it!"

Quickly, he moved the phone away from his ear, suddenly unable to listen to any more. He heard a few more shouts before the phone clanked again, indicating that it had been picked back up, and his mother's voice came once more, more clearly and softly this time.

"Stanley, I need to get going..." Stan noticed the roughness in her voice and winced. He wondered if she knew he had just heard that exchange.

"Have fun at your friend's. I'll see you tomorrow."

He opened his mouth to say goodbye when a dial tone rang out. Slowly, startled, he put his phone onto his knee and clicked to end the call, shoving it into his jeans pocket and slowly glancing back over. To his mild relief, Kyle was fiddling with his own phone and was turned away slightly...Stan's muscles tensed again when he saw his friend glance over knowingly, recognizing that expression without any trouble. Kyle was just being polite, not mentioning it. They had been yelling so loudly that he had probably heard it all.

"You wanna make some food? It's getting kind of late," his friend suggested and got up. Stan watched mutely for a few seconds as he watched his friend unzip his orange jacket and toss it to the side, exposing the white shirt he wore underneath. He could shake this off. It was just a coincidence that his parents were in a sour mood lately.

"Mom and dad are probably in bed."

"Yeah," Stan agreed immediately and got up. He tossed his own jacket off onto the chair at the side and toed his shoes off, following his friend silently into the kitchen. He leaned back awkwardly against the counter and watched the Jew rummage through the cupboards, swallowing.

_Yeah, never have time for me, do you, Sharon?_

_Don't you interrupt me when our son is on the phone!_

"Dude, I want latkes." Stan shook himself out of his thoughts and nodded. It would be fine, he reassured himself. His parents wouldn't start sleeping in different rooms or anything...

Did Kyle's parents sleep in different beds now that they weren't married anymore?

"Sounds good," he replied eventually, looking over. He met Kyle's confused expression and walked over to the stove to help, snatching a bottle of cooking oil from the pantry and drizzling some into the frying pan. Suddenly, he was aware Kyle was looking at him again and stared back, momentarily startled. His eyes looked REALLY green in dim light...Oddly enough, he could see his reflection in them. His black hair looked messy.

"I said, do you want applesauce or sour cream?" The ginger repeated and finished grating his potato, frowning. Stan realized he had zoned out again, embarrassed.

"Dude, are you okay?"

"...Yeah, yeah Kyle, don't worry. Applesauce, I guess." Stan smiled genuinely when he saw the green eyes darken a little with concern, heart lifting up a little bit. No matter what happened, he knew he would always have Kyle. Kyle always listened to his problems. He told him everything, to his knowledge, at least.

"Good. You're doing that thing you used to do every time you'd see Wendy," his friend muttered and continued pounding the shreds of potato into a washcloth, dehydrating them. Stan blinked.

"What?"

"That zone-out thing," Kyle replied and squeezed some of the shreds between his palms, creating a patty and tossing it into the pan. "You know, where you look like you're totally brainless."

"..." Stan laughed in surprise. "Dude, I never knew I did that."

"Yeah. That's because we couldn't snap you out of it to tell you."

Grinning awkwardly and feeling a little better, he snatched a spatula off the rack over the sink and flipped the latke when it began to brown at the edges. "At least I don't usually throw up anymore."

Kyle laughed softly. "I hope not. You guys haven't been together in awhile...right?"

"Nah." Stan flipped the patty again and raised an eyebrow at his friend. 'Right' ? "I haven't even hung out with Wendy in like two years, man."

"Yeah, I guess I'd know."

The bitter tone surprised him. Wondering whether Kyle was in a bad mood over his home situation, he reached out and shoved him playfully, surprised to see his friend ignore it. Kyle began to place the cooked latkes onto a paper towel to let them drain, no longer meeting his eyes. Stan was really beginning to worry. It wasn't like Kyle to go from acting normal one moment, to randomly sarcastic the next. His friend could change moods quickly, of course, but there was usually a discernible reason.

"...Du-"

He was crushed against the pantry door. Startled, he looked up and caught eyes with the other, yet again seeing himself in the green. That green sparkled. Suddenly, familiar hands were on the sides of his body, smoothing upwards.

~o~

Please stay tuned!


	4. Chapter 4

**Close Enough to Burn**

by **icypinkpop**

Pairing: Kyle/Stan (Style)

Disclaimer: All character and series credit to the geniuses that are Matt Stone and Trey Parker.

Warnings: Angst, sap, gayness.

Author's note: Apparently, I will write fanfiction until I die. Every year I think I'm done for good, I go and write something else.

I've wanted to write another South Park story ever since I started my sophomore year of college last August. Being an engineering major doesn't give one much room to do any creative writing, and I've really missed it.

~o~

There wasn't any time to defend himself. Before Stan could protest, the fingers had crept all the way up his sides and were already tickling, their owner totally aware of his most vulnerable spots.

"Kyle!" Embarrassingly, he went to his knees quickly and winced as his head smacked back against the pantry doors. Squirming, he kicked and tried to push Kyle off of him with his hands on the other's shoulders, hating yet welcoming the smug expression on his friend's face. "S-Stop!"

"..." Kyle didn't need to say anything to show he had the upper hand. Horrified by his own wheezing and pitiful defense, Stan continued to chuckle and gape and try to kick the other teen away from him, losing purchase and sliding down onto his back as his sides were assaulted. He swung his elbow at Kyle and cursed breathlessly when he missed, lungs burning.

"Fuck you!" he laughed out, eyes slightly wet. Taking a breath, he shot himself upwards onto his backside and reached up in a last ditch attempt to shunt Kyle off of him, snatching the boy's shirt underneath his chin.

The tickling ceased. Stan gasped for air and looked up, watching in surprise to see his friend sit back and stop touching him. Kyle was staring widely with his hands alongside Stan's on the throat of his shirt.

"..." Stan gripped a little harder and heard a gasp. Slowly, a smile pulled its way over his own face, synchronized with a greater widening of eyes from Kyle.

"You're ticklish here," he stated. Kyle shook his head quickly and Stan dove, knocking his friend back a few inches with his weight and lightly running and wiggling his fingers over his neck.

The reaction was immediate and violent. Almost thrown off by the sudden kicking and gasping, Stan laughed and looked into the annoyed and embarrassed expression that he recognized immediately, continuing the assault and climbing over the redhead as Kyle shoved at his chest. "H-ha! Gotcha! Suck on that, Kyle!"

"Stan!" Stan was still breathless from the attack on his armpits, but the laughing continued to force its way out of his chest until he was practically wheezing for air, enjoying the struggle that was Kyle shoving him out of the way and trying to tickle in his friend's soft spots. Suddenly, he and Kyle were practically nose to nose, with the hot breath passing between their faces and extra warmth radiating from their flushed cheeks. Kyle didn't have his hat on, and his red hair was half blinding Stan's vision every time he dove for another attack.

Something smacked against his forehead. Hard. Grunting, he scooted back in surprise and reached up to rub the sore area, the hot air, aching lungs and tingling underarm areas suddenly too much for him to bear. He glanced over and watched his friend mirror his head-rubbing, realizing they had crashed skulls against one another in the heat of the moment.

Stan grinned slowly in amusement, wanting to laugh but afraid to lose any more oxygen. For the next few minutes, the both of them sat breathing heavily on Kyle's kitchen floor, inhaling the smell of cooked potatoes and getting air back into their systems. A couple of times, Stan glanced over at his friend and was surprised to see him staring at the floor tile instead.

Kyle stood up after a few minutes with a smile on his face. Relieved, Stan responded in kind and pulled a couple of forks out of the utensil drawer, tearing a paper towel off the roll to serve as a napkin. Within minutes, the two were up the stairs and both seated on Kyle's bed in the darkness, dipping latkes into a plastic tupper of applesauce and making crumbs over the bedspread. For Jewish food, Stan had always thought they were pretty good, and Kyle definitely knew how to make them right.

When they both reached for the last one, Stan looked up and returned the challenging look. Too tired to fight for it, however, he broke it in half and handed one piece over to Kyle, pausing mid-dip when he realized something.

_Do you wanna...Can you stay for a few minutes? Sorry Kenny._

"Hey, Kyle," he whispered, remembering it was late and not wanting to wake the adults in the house. "Were you going to talk to me about something?"

Kyle looked over at him with a confused expression. Suddenly, his eyes brightened and he shook his head in the no, crunching down on the last pancake.

"Nuh-uh," he said and swallowed. "I just kind of thought it would be cool if we hung out together. Just...us two." That made Stan smile a little. Kenny was close, but they were best friends. It made him feel really good to know that Kyle had wanted to spend their first night of summer one-on-one. Kenny often had things going on on Friday nights anyways, things that you really didn't invite friends to go do with you.

Stan put the plate on Kyle's nightstand and remembered something, prompted by his friend's slightly mischievous expression.

"Hey, remember that one time you gave Cartman that black eye?" Kyle looked back over at him with that familiar glint. Both of them grinned at each other.

"Which time?" They both laughed. Kyle, for someone who was a pretty average height and build, was strong and had overpowered Cartman and others on a few occasions when he needed to. He had always been a pretty tough kid, when Stan thought about it.

"...Hey Kyle?" Stan laid down on his back and rested his head against the pillows. He realized he was still fully clothed and kicked his shoes off at the foot of the bed, the familiarity of the atmosphere causing something to dawn on him.

"Is your mom, like...moving?" Kyle glanced over at him, looking a little tired but otherwise unaffected by the question.

"Yeah. That's why the truck was here earlier. She's getting a friend to help her move her stuff out," he explained. Stan stayed quiet, watching the ceiling awkwardly. The last thing he wanted to do was upset his friend, but he was curious...

"Where are you gonna live, dude?"

"...With dad."

This time, Kyle's voice was quieter, but it wasn't shaky or uncertain like Stan had thought it might be. Again, he turned his head and they locked eyes. Stan felt his stomach pinch in at the sad expression his friend had on his face, surprised Kyle wasn't looking away.

"This is where I grew up, Stan. I don't want to leave." Kyle sighed and shifted closer. "I'm gonna visit mom. She got enough money from the divorce to buy a little house over on the East side, you know, close to where that big park is with the fountain."

For a moment, he was quiet, before he turned onto his side completely, slightly curled in on himself. Stan stared. It was very unlike Kyle to look vulnerable, and he didn't like it.

"I'll probably go to her house on weekends, or something, but I want to stay here. I don't want to move all my stuff and everything. I'll probably go off to college next year, anyways. It wouldn't be worth it..."

Stan suddenly had the feeling that all of what his friend was saying was pretty trivial. Kyle's parents were separating for good. Did he really care about things like that, like moving his stuff? No, Kyle wasn't that shallow. He probably didn't want to talk about the real repercussions, like having to take the bus to go spend time with one parent instead of the other, having a broken family...

Before he knew it, he had reached out and put a hand on Kyle's side, their positions making it around to pat him on the back or touch on his shoulder. Kyle looked at him with his lips pressed together and Stan rolled onto his side so that they could face one another more comfortably. He almost wanted to look away. This was the first time in awhile that he had really seen that kind of hopelessness in his friend's face. Kyle was much more prone to anger than to sadness, but the latter seemed to be winning out.

"Look, dude, no matter where you stayed, I'd come visit you," he promised, swallowing. "I've still got a bike. We can hang out at my place after school, too. You can spend the night whenever you want." Stan suddenly felt a little awkward to be touching his friend that way, but Kyle smiled and he forgot his discomfort.

"Thanks."

They both were quiet for awhile. Stan rolled onto his back again and yawned into his elbow, beginning to feel tired. Kyle might have finished his last exam that morning, but his own had been in the late afternoon.

"Stan?" He looked over, surprised to see Kyle just a few inches away. The closeness wasn't too unnerving, though. They were best friends, after all. Super ones.

"Yeah?" Kyle had shifted onto his back as well. Stan thought he looked a little bit tense and sighed softly, hoping he wasn't still upset about the divorce. He wanted his friend to forget about it, being the first night of their summer vacation, and all.

"I...I have to tell you something."

Wincing slightly, Stan turned back onto his side. Again, he reached out and put his hand on his friend's shoulder this time, realizing he was being stupid and reaching out with both arms. He pulled his friend into a tight hug and nestled his chin comfortably on his shoulder, listening to Kyle's startled breath in his ear as he felt and smelt the red curls against his cheek and nose.

"Yeah?" he repeated quietly, listening. What was Kyle going to tell him? Was he really more affected by the divorce than he had been letting on? What if he was really depressed? Stan frowned. Would he really have not picked up on it by now, if his best friend was having really bad problems?

He could feel Kyle tense against him a little more, a sensation that made his stomach twist with concern. He heard his friend breathe in deeply and waited.

"I kind of...stole your scarf." Stan blinked. What? He had thought...

"I keep wearing it to school. That red one. Sorry. I wanted to keep it, so I haven't given it back yet. It's really comfortable."

"..." Speechless, the dark-haired boy relaxed all at once and reached up with one hand. He smacked Kyle in the shoulder and shoved him back, smiling incredulously as he looked into the startled eyes.

"What the hell, you dumbass?! Don't scare me like that!" He laughed at Kyle's strange expression. Was he really worried about something like that?! "I thought you had some, like, serious problem or something! You freaked me out!"

Kyle smiled back a little strangely, seemingly embarrassed. Snickering, Stan reached back out and hugged his friend again.

"You can keep that thing. I never use it, anyway," he chuckled, a little confused to feel Kyle's back underneath his hands. His body didn't seem to have loosened up any. He was probably imagining it.

"Heh, okay."

Smiling, Stan rolled onto his back but kept one arm around Kyle, yawning again and closing his eyes. It seemed like things were going to be okay for the next little while. He had a feeling they would both have good dreams.

~o~

Stan wasn't much of a coffee person, but he was in the mood for some caffeine. Over the past week of freedom, he had fallen into his usual rhythm of sleeping late and staying up into the early hours of the morning. That day he hadn't woken up until noon and had spent most of the day dicking around on his computer, and he sure as hell didn't want to get tired before at least 3 in the morning, so he figured a little head-start on staying awake couldn't hurt.

He ducked out of the heat and into the refreshing AC of the new convenience store on the corner, hatless and feeling sweaty. It always amazed him that Colorado could get so hot in the summer, when it was so freezing cold out during the rest of the year. Summer was nice for a lot of reasons, though, one of the best being that you could walk around with just shorts and a t shirt instead of having to suit up in hats and gloves whenever you needed to go somewhere.

Approaching the soda pumps, he stepped back and looked over his options, reaching for a Styrofoam cup and pausing when he clashed hands with-

"Hey, watch it, asshole!"

He looked up into the teal eyes staring back at him and grinned, returning the joking expression his friend was giving him.

"Where the hell have you been, Kenny?" He laughed and shoved his friend lightly, watching as the blond dispensed himself a large 7-up. Kenny did look noticeably different in the summertime. He still wore a ratty orange parka and pants the majority of the time when it was cold out, but typically wore shorts and t-shirts like most people did when it got warmer. It was a change to be able to see his entire face and head, what with the absence of a hood. Apparently girls liked it, since they could frequently be seen pawing through his hair when it was exposed.

"Oh, you know." Stan shook his head at the brow-wiggle, pretty sure he didn't want to know. He had probably been spending a few days in some girl's bedroom, or something.

"Pretty sure I can guess, dude."

Kenny snickered and followed Stan to the cash register. Realizing his friend hadn't paid for his own drink yet, the black-haired boy took two dollars out of his pocket and handed them across the counter, pointing at Kenny's drink and making it clear he'd pay for both. He took his change and looked over, noticing that his friend was beaming at him. He returned the smile. Kenny worked a job, but he knew it was still hard for him to make ends meet.

"Don't tell Cartman you just did that. He'd make you buy him one, too," Kenny said, still smiling as they stepped out and turned the corner together.

Stan snorted. "Or three, or four." Like always, Cartman was still chubby and prone to eating junk food. Growing up had added some height to his frame, but he had topped out at a couple of inches shorter than Stan was and at least fifty pounds heavier.

"Where is Cartman, anyway? Have you seen him?"

"Just once," Kenny replied around his straw and pressed the crosswalk button, waiting for the signal. "He was at Willie's having pizza by himself." Stan raised an eyebrow. That wasn't too much of a surprise. Not very many people could handle being around Cartman for very long, anyway, but the four of them still hung out as a group sometimes. He had never understood how Cartman could be so annoying, and yet they could all tolerate him for surprisingly long amounts of time. Well, Kyle couldn't, but he and Kenny seemed to be able to shrug him off.

"Where've you been keeping Kyle holed up?"

Stan looked over in surprise as they crossed the street, passing the toy store. "Huh?"

"I've been to his house like three times. He's never home."

Startled, Stan slowed down and had to speed up to get back to Kenny's side. Kyle hadn't been home? Wait...

"Hey, yeah, you're right. I've called him twice," he admitted. "I thought he might have had his phone off, or something." It wasn't too abnormal for Stan not to get back to someone right away, but Kyle was normally pretty prompt.

He met his friend's slightly worried look, biting the inside of his cheek. "Do you think he's at his mom's house?" he asked, wondering if the Mrs. had totally moved out. Kenny shrugged.

"I don't think so. I asked his dad where he was. He just kept saying was out somewhere."

Stan frowned. He knew a lot of people liked Kyle, but was he so popular that he had been spending time at other houses all week long? He knew his friend played basketball with Token and a few other guys once a week at the park. That wasn't nearly enough activity to keep him away from home for that long...

"We should go to his house and see if he's there," he decided, turning left instead of the usual right. Kenny followed behind him right up to his front door, reaching up to knock.

"Guys?" They both spun around. Kyle stood behind them in a confusing outfit. He wore slacks (what the hell? Slacks?) and a white button-up long-sleeved shirt with a collar and a dark purple tie, as well as brown, sort of shiny shoes on his feet. His hair, while free from a hat, seemed to have been tamed a little bit, and he had a folder under his arm with papers sticking out. Stan stepped forward, further confused by the little smile on his friend's face.

"Kyle?"

"What are you guys doing?" The redhead walked up and opened the door, letting them in and dropping his folder on the kitchen table. Kenny, obviously equally surprised, walked up behind Kyle and wrapped one arm around him, reaching up and forcibly mussing his fingers into the red curls.

"Us? What're YOU all dressed up for? Got some fancy date?" the blond laughed, allowing himself to be fought off. Kyle continued smiling and shoved Kenny away, opening the fridge and taking out a bottle of water.

"I got a summer job, guys!" Stan set his cup down, surprised. He supposed he shouldn't be. Kyle had been talking about looking for work during the last school year, after all...

"Oh, so that's why you've been blowing us off? Some friend you are!" Kenny reached up to mess with Kyle's curls again and laughed as he was smacked away. Kyle looked at the both of them and flushed in seeming embarrassment, taking his phone out of his pocket.

"Sorry. I have to have my phone off during interviews. I've had like five this week and-"

"Congratulations, dude," Stan cut him off with a smile. Kyle was a studious guy, and obviously put a lot of value on getting into a good college and things like that.

"Where do you work?"

"I start next week at South Park Community College," his friend replied, walking into the living room and sitting down on the sofa. "I'm going to be the head prep-room attendant for the glassware in the chemistry department." Kenny yawned loudly and Kyle rolled his eyes. "I only work three days a week. It'll look really good on my resume if I can keep it until we start school next August."

"Aw man, really? And I have to keep serving up burgers? I wish I were smart like you." Kenny elbowed Kyle and smiled at him, turning.

"Our little man's growing up, Stan."

Stan laughed at the expression on Kyle's face. "Dude, that's like something Cartman would say." All three of them chuckled and Kenny snatched the remote, turning on the television and flicking through the guide. Watching Kyle unbutton his shirt slightly, he got an idea and sat up, checking his phone for the time.

"We should go do something tonight. It's already seven," he suggested, surprised to see one of the faces sour while the other smiled.

"Uh...I don't think I want to hang out here at my house," Kyle admitted. At that, Kenny's eyes narrowed a little bit.

"Yeah, mine's not good. My mom's, uh...not expecting company." As always, Kenny's parents had a lot of problems. Stan and Kyle had gotten used to using one of their houses as a hangout spot instead of Kenny's since their blond friend still didn't have air conditioning or heating, and his place was just generally a somewhat hostile atmosphere. Stan paused when he realized what Kyle was effectively telling him. Was he not comfortable being there with just his dad around? It had to be strange, having one of your parents leave for good. Stan remembered it happening with his parents when he was younger, for just a little while. Maybe Kyle had been staying out for more reasons than just job interviews...

"We can go hang out at my house," he offered, pausing. His parents...They were still fighting pretty frequently. He had been really embarrassed the last time that had happened when Kyle and Kenny were there. What if it happened again?

"...Uh, if you're sure you guys are good with that," he finished awkwardly, earning himself a couple of surprised looks. He swallowed dryly. Then, surprisingly, Kenny sat up and stuck a finger out, pointing over his head sneakily.

"I know where we can go," he chuckled, tapping his temple. Stan and Kyle were silent.

"Think about it. Where can we go where there's always tons of food in the fridge, a huge TV, and parents that don't bother us?"

The three of them looked at each other. Suddenly, it hit Stan and he grinned, looking over at his best friend.

"Dude, Cartman's." Kyle stared back. Stan immediately shoved his phone into his pocket, excited. "Think about it! His mom's probably not even there. We can go break in and raid his fridge! And he's got the new game for the GameSphere, too. We can play it!" Admittedly, the idea of bothering Cartman was the biggest plus. He surely wouldn't want them barging in like that, but that was half the fun of it. Besides, even with his and Kyle's scuffle a few weeks prior, Cartman was still a familiar face. Stan was pretty sure the relationship between Kyle and Cartman would be the same as ever: tense, but maintainable.

Kenny widened his eyes and smirked, obviously on board. "Yeah! I'm totally going to eat all his pizza."

"He's got Bloodbath IV?" Stan and Kenny looked at the redhead. Both grinned simultaneously when Kyle smiled, kicking off his formal shoes. Some people thought Kyle was a little bit nerdy, but Stan knew better. His friend liked fun stuff as much as anyone else did.

They all stood up and left the house, chasing each other down the street in the twilight.

As expected, while not greeted with open arms, they had managed to get into the house through the kitchen window and raided the fridge before Cartman had even noticed they were there. Even then, a "Screw you, Hippies!" hadn't been nearly enough to keep the three from gallivanting into the large living room and heading straight for the gaming system, with the brunet on their heels in hot pursuit. The four of them spent the next few hours sharing whatever snacks were around and playing one another. Kyle had even gone so far as to "accidentally" erase Cartman's game file, the whining repercussions of which had sent Stan laughing until he couldn't breathe. He knew his friend was too smart to do such a thing by accident.

"'Ey! Lemme have a turn, Kinny! Stop playing the Jew!"

While Kenny and Cartman fought over one controller. Kyle stretched out over the fat pink beanbag he had claimed and stuck his tongue out in concentration as he focused on barreling through the army of zombies on the screen. Stan watched his brow wrinkle a little in his focus, noticing hos his eyes darkened and went from their hazel color to a darker green, one he could see the reflection of the television in. His gaze dropped to Kyle's fingers which gripped and flicked over the controls expertly, realizing that he had to have gotten a lot of practice on the GameSphere 2 he had bought Kyle for his birthday the month before. He smiled, surprised by the fondness he felt when Kyle shook his curls out and moved his character around a hoard.

"Hands off, fatty! I've almost got Kyle beat!"

Stan smiled to see Kyle taking full advantage of Kenny's lack of focus, again watching his curls bounce on his head as he did so. Come to think of it, Kyle and Bebe had sort of similar hair. Bebe obviously had blond hair while Kyle's was red, but both of them had the same sort of coarse, curly texture. Bebe's hair was a little bit tamer, naturally or from using hair products, Stan wasn't sure, but Kyle's was and always had been wild. Neither of them had hair like he and Wendy, the straight hair that wouldn't puff up no matter what you did to it...

The game silenced itself and displayed the multiplayer scores. Kenny took one look at the screen and pouted, reaching up and sending a hard and direct smack right to Cartman's face, the sharp sound preceding Stan and Kyle's laughter.

"Ack! You poor asshole!"

Stan sniggered and watched as Kyle put down the controller. His friend got up and walked over towards the hall, calling back over his shoulder at the two scuffling boys.

"Cartman, I'm gonna go use your shower!"

"What?!" Cartman sat up and pushed Kenny away. "You better not! Get back here, ya damn kike!"

Stan's laugh got louder when Kyle shook his head and kept walking until he was out of sight. He looked to Cartman and reached out, snatching the bag of CheesyPoofs from him.

"Chill out, dude. Kyle probably needs it. He's been out having job interviews and stuff." Kyle had probably had lots of occasion to sweat lately, especially with the 85-and-over temperatures.

"You assholes, breaking into my house," Cartman replied with a mutter and reached for the Ding-Dongs instead. Kenny, finishing off the bag of powdered-sugar mini donuts, threw it at Stan and smiled when it hit him in the shoulder.

"Agh. You guys tired me out. I have work tomorrow." Stan checked his phone at that, surprised to see it was already after two. He wasn't at all opposed to staying up that late, but that was mostly because he didn't have a job at the moment. He glanced over at the blond, watching him get up and brush the crumbs off his lap.

"I'm gonna hit the sack. Totally taking your extra bedroom, Cartman." Kenny winked at the two of them and Stan waved, suddenly surprised to be alone in the room with their unwilling host. He glanced over at the brunet and, surprised to find brown eyes watching him, kicked his shoes off and stretched out against the arm of the couch, yawning.

"I'll just crash down here. You can have your bed," he told him and rubbed at one sleepy eye, sure that at least Kenny would be gone by the time he woke up. Hopefully Kyle didn't have anything to do tomorrow and they would leave together, maybe go to the arcade or see a movie or something.

"Pfft. Like I want you in my bed, fag." Stan rolled his eyes.

"Kyle's gonna stay down here with me. You won't have to worry about that."

"You think so?" Startled by the low tone of voice, Stan looked over at Cartman awkwardly. What did he mean by that?

"Uh...I don't think Kyle wants to share a bed with you, dude," he replied, looking back with a slight shudder.

"That's not what I meant, Stan." Cartman was propped up against a pillow on the other side of the sofa with a can of Double Dew in his hand, looking at Stan with his trademark I-know-something-you-don't expression. Stan sighed in response and reached for his water, chucking it back. This was stupid.

"Whatever, Cartman. You're just trying to psych me out. You can't fool me."

Shifting, Cartman yawned and Stan shut his eyes, waiting to hear the heavy footsteps plonking their way up the stairs. He'd have to stay awake a little longer, just to have a one-on-one with Kyle for a little bit.

"Yes, I suppose I don't have to. Kyle seems to be doing a pretty good job all by himself."

Stan's eyes shot open just in time to see Cartman on the first stair step. Without thinking, he sat up.

"What are you talking about?"

Hating himself for asking, sure that that was what the other had wanted him to do, Stan sighed and frowned when Cartman stepped back into the dim room, the only source of light the TV that lit up their faces.

"Don't you know? Kyle is supposed to be your...best friend."

He frowned. "Yeah. He is."

"So surely you've heard." Frustrated, Stan tensed and shifted towards Cartman aggressively.

"Heard what, asshole? Kyle's fine! He got a job earlier. If something was wrong he would have told me!"

"Hmm, yes, one would think so." Cartman smiled simperingly at him, an expression which made Stan step closer before he even realized he had gotten out of his seat.

"Shut up, fatass! I know Kyle a lot better than you do!"

"Like I said..." Eerily, Cartman returned to the stairs and looked back at him, still smiling.

"You'd think best friends would tell each other everything." Stan opened his mouth to yell, surprisingly irked by whatever the hell that had been implying. Before he could say anything, however, Cartman had walked up the stairs and out of sight, leaving him in the dim room next to the couch with all the spilled potato chips and pastry crumbs. Realizing his hands were clenched into fists, he turned around and stomped his way back to the sofa, sitting down and hearing things crunch underneath him. Silently, he peeled his socks off and kicked off his khakis, sitting in his t-shirt and boxers with his knees against his chest.

Kyle would definitely tell him if something was up. Right?

"Stan?"

A glance up welcomed the image of his best friend, also clad in boxers and his shirt and staring at him silently. Somehow relieved, Stan shifted over to make room.

"Hey. Did you shower?"

"Yeah. My hair's still wet. It's going to look really bad tomorrow when I wake up." Both of them snickered. Kyle looked down at the cushions and, seemingly a little disgusted, got up and brushed himself off.

"We should clean off the sofa before we sleep on it."

"...We could just sleep on the floor," Stan suggested, watching as Kyle nodded and sat down on the floor with the beanbags and pillows. He picked up the blanket already on the sofa and shook it out, laying it on the cleanest part of the carpet and laying down with his head on a fat, light-blue pillow they had found in one of the upstairs closets.

"Hey...Kyle?" he said uncertainly, mind still on Cartman.

Kyle looked over sharply, startling him. Again, he could see himself in the green of his friend's eyes, something which unsettled him a little bit. He wondered why he had never noticed that until recently. Suddenly and inexplicably embarrassed, he coughed and looked in the other direction, feeling the weight of his friend laying down beside him.

"Never mind." When he looked back, Kyle was watching him with a confused look. Stan smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, glad to see the expression returned.

"Night, Stan."

"Night." He rolled over, onto his side hearing the covers rustle as Kyle adjusted behind him. After a few minutes, he suddenly remembered the night a few weeks ago.

_My parents are getting divorced._

_They said they're going to get...the papers today. They don't know I know. _

Stan stayed awake long after his friend's breaths turned heavy.

~o~

Thank you for reviewing and reading! (Kyle's new job is very similar to an old job I had...they say "write what you know"?) Stay tuned.


	5. Chapter 5

**Close Enough to Burn**

by **icypinkpop**

Pairing: Kyle/Stan (Style)

Disclaimer: All character and series credit to the geniuses that are Matt Stone and Trey Parker.

Warnings: Angst, sap, gayness.

Author's note: Apparently, I will write fanfiction until I die. Every year I think I'm done for good, I go and write something else.

I've wanted to write another South Park story ever since I started my sophomore year of college last August. Being an engineering major doesn't give one much room to do any creative writing, and I've really missed it.

Edit: I'm really sorry about the long time between updates! I don't have an excuse, other than work (which isn't a very good excuse). I'll do my best to be quicker from now on. I've been trying to make each chapter at least 5k, so they've been time-consuming!

~o~

"Well you can just sleep on the couch if you don't appreciate it!"

"Fine! I will! See if I fuckin' care, Sharon!"

Stan pushed the pillow over his ears and groaned as he rolled onto his front, breathing slowly into the mattress with his hair in his eyes. The familiar stomping sounded down the stairs and faded as the feet causing it tromped their way around underneath the floorboards of his bedroom.

"..." He reached for his phone and pulled it swiftly, dislodging the charger from its port and staring tiredly at the screen that lit up in his face. It was almost 1 AM; a pretty bad time to call someone, but he wasn't sure he could stand spending another night hiding under his covers and waiting for the next shout to echo through the house. At least there was one person who he knew he could always call, no matter how obscenely early or late it happened to be.

He dialed and held the phone against his ear, sliding out preemptively from under the sheets and relaxing at the familiar voice. "Hey Kyle," he breathed, stuffing his feet in the tennis shoes at the foot of the bed and hopping as he stepped his way into some shorts, yanking them over his boxers. "Can I come spend the night at your place? Please?" He noticed with a grimace that his voice was a little shakier than he might have liked.

"...Huh?" Stan had to contort himself to remain on the phone while he pulled a t-shirt on over his head, shaking his hair out as he listened over the line. At his mom's house? Oh, right. The divorce. He couldn't help but curse mentally, wishing Kyle had decided to visit his mother on some other night.

"Okay, give me the address," he muttered and pulled his iPad out of the bedside drawer, tapping the MAPS app.

He usually would have regretted putting on shorts and a simple shirt before getting on his bike and heading for a destination miles away, but June brought with it warmer nights than usual, and the slight breeze actually felt refreshing and freeing as it blew through his clothes. Pausing at stoplights to check the iPad in his bike basket and make sure that he had his directions straight, the teenager pedaled his way east until he found himself in an unfamiliar neighborhood. He turned at the sign that read _'Cherry Blossom Groves'_ and, as per Kyle's earlier instructions, rode until he spotted Ms. Broflovski's white Prius in the carport, skidding to a stop.

After dumping his bike unceremoniously near the front steps, he ran up to the door and reached up to knock hurriedly, watching as it slid open seconds later.

"Stan," Kyle muttered from his place in the doorway, lit only by the porch light mounted beside the front door. He stepped aside wordlessly and Stan watched his curls bouncing as he followed.

"Be quiet. My mom's asleep." Stan nodded wordlessly and tailgated his friend through the darkness, eyes adjusting as he trailed behind the form that darted up the stairs and towards a door at the end of the hall. The carpet hit his feet as he closed the door behind him, walking to Kyle's bed and squinting when a night-light in the corner of the room beamed at him through the blackness. He sat down mutely and glanced upwards.

Kyle looked disheveled. He had seen his friend in various states of dress and consciousness a million times, but there was something about him presently that struck him a little differently than usual. His red curls were particularly messy and tousled all over the place, and matched a fading redness that seemed to lie under the skin of his cheeks and his mouth. His eyes, normally a sort of hazel when Stan wasn't really looking, seemed particularly green as he stared at them now, momentarily startling him with their vividness.

"Uh...Thanks, dude." Stan fidgeted on the bed and kicked his shoes off, making sure to talk in a whisper, as they had become accustomed to doing in this kind of a circumstance. Kyle looked back at him with a weird sharpness, and the other suddenly felt sort of itchy all over.

"Stan, what the hell is going on?" To his surprise, the redhead moved closer and leaned back against the wall in his pajamas, sending a concerned expression his way. He gulped.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean, 'what do I mean'? You've looked like hell all week."

Stan's face felt cold. His best friend wasn't generally that blunt about things.

"...What do you mean?" he repeated accidentally, shrinking a little in embarrassment when Kyle gave him an exasperated look that asked 'Really?' He watched silently as his friend slid off the bed, waiting apprehensively until he slid back onto the mattress and held something reflective up in front of his face. The black-haired boy squinted, barely making out his own visage in the low light.

"You've got huge dark circles. Have you been getting any sleep? You're always zoned out, too," Kyle complained in a whisper, shutting the makeup mirror and tossing it aimlessly onto the bedside table. Stan gulped. He had really been hoping he wouldn't notice...

"Uh..."

"I have to say your name like three times before you even look at me, dude. Are you okay?"

He was caught. Sighing, Stan raised his eyes from the bedspread up at his friend, jolting slightly as a shiver ran up his spine. His body felt a little warmer, actually, when he recognized his friend's expression for a concerned one. At least he had somebody who would never judge him, no matter how stressful (or ironic) things happened to get.

"My parents keep fighting all the time," he admitted, slumping a little in relief. It felt good to tell someone. "It's been happening for like...a couple weeks. I can't sleep with them stomping around and screaming at each other."

Predictably, Kyle looked surprised, but the slightly furrowed brow made him look a little less so than Stan might have expected him to be. The confessor turned slightly away and pulled his knees up against his chest as he rested back against the wall beside his companion.

"...That's rough, dude." The sentiment, full of the kind of deep understanding that the two of them shared, made Stan feel like a heavy backpack had just been lifted off of his shoulders. Barely realizing he was smiling, he glanced over and scooted a little closer, shaking his head at him.

"Nah, it's okay, really. I just didn't, uh..." He swallowed, face starting to feel hot. More than anything, he just felt embarrassed right now. "I didn't want to tell anybody."

The silence that entered wasn't awkward in the least. Feeling understood, Stan sucked a breath in and watched his friend's face tighten a little sympathetically, his own body relaxed and noticeably lighter than it had seemed before. It was really good to get that off his chest.

Then, suddenly, Kyle smiled at him. It wasn't a jubilant or excited expression, but the little up-quirk of lips somehow made Stan's chest feel a little tighter as he breathed. Before he could do anything but grin back goofily, however, he felt arms around him and stared suddenly at the red curls that were in half of his face, inhaling the distinctive shampoo-y smell in surprise.

"Sorry," Kyle replied simply. It took Stan a moment to realize what he was referring to. Somehow certain that talking would ruin whatever was going on, aware that their friendship was strong enough to allow a sufficiently deep understanding, he simply shook his head again and brought his hands up to lock his friend in an identical squeeze.

"...Don't worry about me. You've got it worse," he eventually admitted and let go, feet suddenly noticeably chillier than the rest of him. Kyle held on for a few more seconds before he released his grip and sat back on his calves.

"Huh?"

"Your parents are divorced," Stan reminded quietly, not wanting to seem harsh. He had been wondering, though... "Is it hard?"

The redhead pulled some covers up over his lap. "Well, yeah, a little," he admitted, surprising Stan with his particularly unemotional tone of voice. "It's different. It's...not that bad, though. My dad lets me have a lot more freedom than my mom does, and I spend most of my time with him."

Surprisingly, Kyle smiled at him again. Feeling warm again all of a sudden, Stan averted his eyes instinctively.

"I'm getting a car." That brought his gaze right back over. He gaped and Kyle just grinned wider, confirming his suspicions.

"...No WAY!" he shouted accidentally, covering his mouth.

"Dude, shh! My mom!"

"Sorry! But...seriously?!" Stan tried to make up for his yelling with a sharp whisper, blue eyes big and grinning from ear to ear. Kyle snickered in response, nodded his head.

"Yep! I just have to get it registered. The neighbors are selling me their Saturn."

Their grins matched and Stan held out a hand, pushing away his own surprise at the strangely euphoric rush of joy that streamed down through his arm and chest when Kyle's palm smacked against his softly.

"You have to show me tomorrow! I can, uh...Your mom won't be mad if I'm here in the morning, right?"

His friend shrugged and slid down under the covers with a yawn, hair all over the place. "I don't care. I'll take you for a ride, too."

Cheeks starting to hurt from his grinning, Stan shifted and slid further under the covers. They exchanged a look and Kyle turned around, getting comfortable underneath the duvet and settling his head onto the pillow. Stan followed suit with the pillow on his side of the bed, shifting so that the blanket covered his feet and pausing when his cheek rubbed against something textured. He yawned and pushed away the bit of fabric, squinting at it through the darkness. Something dark was half-draped over the edge of his pillow. He couldn't quite tell what color it was...Red, maybe?

"You'd better let me drive," he replied quietly, yawning as he rested his head against the cool surface. Stan couldn't remember what happened after that.

~o~

BEEP BEEP

When a not-unfamiliar melody rang out into the silence, irking him out of sleep, Stan instinctively reached for his cell phone. Stupid alarm! It was a Saturday. He must have accidentally set it.

Rubbing his thumb over the touchscreen awkwardly, trying to find the swipe that would shut it up, he peered up from under the comforter and pulled the device closer, squinting at the screen.

1 New Text Message

"..." Something was wrong. The background on his phone screen was red, from what he remembered...

The soft breathing behind him suddenly reminded him where he was and he looked back at the thing in his hand, recognizing the smell of the bedding against his face. He had slept over.

_Kyle's phone!_

Relieved that the alert sounds had ceased, Stan looked back at the blue screen and its text, listening to Kyle's exhalations over his shoulder. He knew that he probably shouldn't wake him up just to show him that he had a text message, especially since the screen was displaying '8:14 AM' clearly in the upper-right corner. Swallowing, he dragged his finger across the screen to cancel out the alert message, mistakenly running it over the 'Messages' icon at the bottom.

Kyle's message log opened. Surprised, Stan instinctively ran his eyes down the list. He spotted a message from himself near the bottom that he had sent a couple of days before, recalling the time he had texted his friend with an invitation to go eat lunch at the Chinese Buffet that had just been built in town. Not thinking much of it, he moved his eyes up the list, mentally reading off each name that came into vision.

Stan

Stan

Craig

He paused. Craig...He had probably been bothering Kyle for homework help, or something. Stan knew that a lot of the guys in their class had been forced to take summer school to satisfy their credit requirement before senior year.

Craig

Stan

Token

Stan blinked. Token? Did Kyle talk to Token a lot? He knew that they sometimes played basketball in the park, along with others.

Token

Butters

Stan

Clyde

Kyle really did have a lot of friends. Brow twitching slightly, Stan scrolled up through the list to the top, spotting the highlighted message labeled 8:13 AM with the current date beneath. Maybe he should check it out...?

He faltered. He shouldn't even be looking at his friend's text messages. It was an invasion of privacy, no matter how close the two of them were, and he was pretty sure that Kyle might not be pleased to hear that someone was rooting through his personal stuff without asking.

Token was the last name at the top of the list, identifying the sender of the message that had woken him up a few minutes prior. Stan glanced warily over at his friend, who was asleep on his side with his back to him, and then looked slowly back at the phone. Was it possible that Kyle wouldn't mind? It could be important. His friend might want to know what the message was about as soon as he woke up, he reasoned. He might even appreciate Stan for being able to wake him if there was something serious going on...

Taking a breath, he clicked the message, eyes grazing over the first line.

_Hey Ky _

He almost dropped the phone. Ky? People...actually called Kyle KY? Stan frowned. That was really weird. Maybe it was a typo.

_How are you holding up? Still up for ball on Friday? Don't worry, all the guys are cool. We haven't told anybody. Hit me up!_

"Stan?"

SHIT! Practically launching himself out of bed, Stan reached out to catch himself on the side table and knocked his head into the wall, hand shooting to his head with a groan to rub his skull.

"Kyle..." was looking at him through his curls and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and seemed a little alarmed by the sudden movement. Stan swallowed and, without much thought, clicked to bring the phone back to its home screen, pointing at it.

"Your phone, uh, went off and woke me up..." he began, slow realization beginning to churn down in his lower stomach. It wouldn't show an alert for a new message, if Kyle looked. Stan had already opened it and read-

"Wait...What time is it?" the redhead asked suddenly, sitting tensely among the bedcovers. In the light that came through the blinds, Stan realized for the first time that Kyle was in a grey t-shirt and some forest-green basketball shorts, which he had apparently mistaken for pajamas the night before in the darkness. Stan wondered vaguely if his mom was aware of where he was.

"Uh, a little after eight," he replied, pointing to the screen. This time, it was Kyle's turn to leap out of bed and run towards the other end of the room, hair bouncing as he did so.

"It's Saturday?! Shit! I have to be at work at 8:30! I forgot!" Stan watched as his friend stripped out of his shirt and kicked his shorts off as well before he began tearing through his dresser, snatching a pair of blue jeans from the top drawer. Still back on the bed, the houseguest looked away suddenly, somehow feeling particularly awkward as Kyle hopped himself into the pants one leg at a time.

"Uh, just let yourself out, okay?" his friend asked and pulled a clean shirt over his pale chest, reaching for the keys hanging from a lanyard around the doorknob. "My mom's already at work. You can grab some breakfast before you go. There's Pop Tarts in the cabinet over the sink. I'll show you the car some other time, okay?"

Stan watched the other grab his wallet from the bedside table and stick his phone into his pocket, nodding. "Yeah, um...Thanks. I'll see you later-"

Kyle waved at him and rushed out through the bedroom door before he could finish, leaving Stan staring at the bedspread silently.

"...Ky." Frowning, he got up and glanced at himself in the full-length mirror in the opposite corner, shaking his hair out and fishing underneath the bed with his foot for his shoes. What had that message been about? 'Haven't told anybody'? What could Token possibly know about Kyle that Stan didn't? Horrifyingly enough, Cartman's voice came immediately to mind.

"_You'd think best friends would tell each other everything."_

Was it possible that he was missing something?

He shivered as he inched his sandals on, shaking his head as he walked downstairs. He really doubted that Kyle would keep something from him, but there might be a way to find out.

~o~

Even amidst the sea of black baseball caps behind the front counter, the bright blond hair stuck out. Stan had to stand on his toes to see over the lines of people at the front, grabbing for their trays of food and sauce packets and drinks and change. Forcing himself into what seemed like a line and waiting, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a five-dollar bill, foot tapping nervously as he waited. He really needed to get up there, and it wasn't because he was hungry.

"Next, please!" He waited as patiently as possible as people began to drift off from the line. Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to go to a burger place at exactly noon, when everyone was off of work and scrambling to feed themselves before they had to get in their cars and drive back, but Stan hadn't been able to help himself from getting on his bike and rushing there. He hoped that he was overreacting. That text message Token had sent to Kyle's phone a couple weeks before probably hadn't meant anything specific; maybe his best friend had had a little fight with one of them about something? Whatever the case, Kyle really only seemed to hang out with those guys on an infrequent basis, so surely nothing too secretive could be going on.

Right?

"Next! Neeext! Man, pretty-boy, come back to Earth anytime now!"

Stan looked up immediately and caught laughing teal eyes with his own startled ones, face to face with the reason he was there in the first place.

"Kenny," he replied and leaned forward, pausing. Wait, had he just called him... "Pretty-boy?!"

"Figured that'd get your attention. What'll it be?" The blond held up a crummy spatula and pointed at the menu board behind him with a photogenic grin. "Oh, and we're out of Hershey pies, so don't ask for that."

"I really need to talk to you," Stan replied quickly over the multitude of customer and worker voices, hand tightening around his bill. "Um..."

"Huh?" Seemingly surprised, Kenny took out a cup and filled it with ice, pushing it onto the lever to dispense what Stan noticed was a Dr. Pepper. His favorite.

"Sorry, man, I'm working here. I can't take a break until it calms down. Can you wait half an hour?" He snatched Stan's bill before he could answer. "Double cheeseburger with bacon and curly fries? No pickles."

Stan stared mutely. He definitely should give Kenny more credit, he decided. The guy knew his order by heart and everything.

"Yeah, thanks." He took his change and receipt and moved out of the way, returning his friend's wave as Kenny spun on his heel and rushed back into the kitchen. Plucking his drink from the side, he stuck a straw through the lid and moved to a slightly dirty table near the corner, wadding up some napkins from the nearby dispenser and wiping some mustard drops off the surface.

It took about fifteen minutes for another worker to bring his tray to his table. Sufficiently hungry by then, Stan unwrapped his burger and sank his teeth in. Not tasting onion, he curiously set it down and lifted up the top bun to check for it, staring down at the two round dollops and the long curved streak of mustard that had sunk into the bread in a clear impression of a smiley face.

He returned the smile. Kenny had to have made his food for him, too.

Over the next ten minutes or so, the crowd in the restaurant began to dwindle until only a few couples and families were scattered around the place, leaving Stan in his private corner with his lunch remnants and the rest of his soda. He was scrolling through his phone, planning on leaving Kyle a text message when the scrapy sound of ice in a cup brought his attention up to the seat across from him.

"Man, I could use some of this," Kenny groaned as he popped the top off the cup and glugged down what remained, taking his visor off and wiping his sweaty forehead with his arm. Stan watched him and pushed over his basket with the remaining French fries, watching as his friend snatched a handful gratefully.

"Dude, that was crazy. There were like a hundred people in here."

The blond rolled his eyes in affirmation, relaxing against the booth. "You're telling me. I had to take all their orders. Our newbie called in sick with the flu and the manager's out, so we were down two people. I almost put my hand on the damn stove earlier."

Stan widened his eyes. "By accident?"

"No, on purpose." Kenny grinned wryly. "That way I could've claimed work injury and gone home."

They both laughed and dug back into the remainder of Stan's fries.

"I wouldn't've, though. You wanted to talk to me, right?" Looking up into the clear teal eyes, Stan nodded honestly and slumped slightly in his seat.

"Yeah. Have you...talked to Kyle lately?" he inquired. "Like, in the last week or so?"

Kenny shrugged. "Not for a few days. I saw him last..." Stan could tell he was counting down in his head. "Saturday? Sunday? I met him at the park after work and played basketball with him and Clyde. Why?"

The addressed swallowed dryly, fingers picking silently at the fry crumbs in his basket.

"So what, he invites everybody to play basketball now?" he replied bitterly without a second thought. Both of the teenagers looked surprised by his comment.

"...Whoa, what's up with you?" Kenny broke the silence by leaning across the table, one brow disappearing into his dirty-blond bangs as Stan shifted uncomfortably and brought his feet up onto the slightly splitting seat cushion.

"Nothing."

"Seriously? You look like crap, by the way. What's with those bags under your eyes? Your parents aren't making you do summer school, are th-"

"I read Kyle's texts, okay?!"

Kenny shut up and looked at Stan sideways. Embarrassed and waiting to be chastised for it, guiltier than he had even realized before, the dark-haired boy reached for what was left of his soda, chucking an ice cube back into his mouth and sucking on it nervously.

"So, what, you found nudes or something?"

He choked. "What the hell, dude?! No! Sick!"

With his trademark mischievous half-smile, the blond held his hands up and waved them apologetically.

"Sorry, sorry. I'll listen. So what was in there?" He leaned closed to Stan. "I won't tell him you looked. Promise."

Slightly relieved, Stan nodded in response and pulled his knees up against his chest, looking up trustingly. "Just a bunch of texts from Token. I went over to Kyle's place and his phone went off, but he was sleeping so I picked it up and..." How could he even describe it? He didn't even really remember the wording, but...

"It was something about...Token asked Kyle how he was doing and told him that he...wouldn't tell anybody about something," he tried to explain, watching his friend's expression for any hint of understanding that might be there. "He said that...all of the guys were 'cool' with it, or something like that. I don't remember." Did he sound stupid?

Kenny's expression made him unsure. Once Stan had stayed silent for a few seconds, his friend sat back a little against the seat, wearing a perplexed face that soothed the other slightly. At least he wasn't the only one confused.

"What, you mean you aren't cool with it?" the blond inquired in what looked like great surprise. Stan's mouth fell open.

He had been wrong.

"God damn it, what the hell?!" Something was seriously going on with Kyle? Was he depressed because of the divorce? Why hadn't he told him?

"Dude, chill out-"

"What are you even talking about, Kenny? What am I supposed to be cool with?!" Stan replied in exasperation and clenched his fists, staring with wide eyes across the table into equally surprised eyes that looked back. Kenny's expression went from perplexed to startled in an instant, and then, inexplicably, the blond let out a wavering little laugh.

"Wow, you really don't like it, huh? You should really try to be cool with it. He's your best friend."

Stan stared cluelessly, temper calming for a moment. Kenny really didn't understand? Was something supposed to be obvious to him?

"Dude...I have no idea what you are talking about right now," he replied as levelly as possible, a little afraid but mostly eager to learn whatever it was that he seemed to be missing. "I really don't. What...What's going on with Kyle? He hasn't told me anything."

The blond looked back at him, all traces of his previous emotions fading in the face of his obvious shock. They looked at each other for a few moments before Kenny extended a hand, making a sort of "duh" gesture with it.

"Well, you know," he said smoothly, watching Stan with a confused gleam in his eyes. "The whole...bi thing."

Stan realized he had forgotten to breathe and inhaled deeply, head starting to ache. He stared disbelievingly, completely caught off guard.

"...What "bi thing"?!"

"Uh...He totally told you, right?" Seemingly equally surprised but apparently for different reasons, Kenny shifted and leaned back across the table towards Stan. "That he likes guys? He still likes chicks too, of course. I think he told me a couple weeks ago, and then ended up admitting it to some of the guys a few days after that. What, you think he's going out with Token, or something?"

Stan's head was reeling. He had no idea what was going on. His best friend of almost ten years was...

"When did he tell you?!" he asked suddenly, not sure what to feel about any of this.

"I dunno, Friday before last, or something? When did he tell you?" Kenny inquired. Stan slammed his hand down on the table unintentionally, feeling like his stomach was on fire and that the flames were licking up into his lungs.

"He _didn't_ tell me, Kenny! Don't you get it?! Kyle likes GUYS? What the fuck?!"

Staring back incredulously, the other shook his head softly in response. "But...How could he not tell you? You guys are really close."

"...I don't know!" Suddenly exhausted, Stan slumped down over the edge of the table. None of this made sense. If Kyle actually...liked guys, he would have told him, right? Why would he tell all these other people and not him? Was this what Cartman had been talking about? Shit...Had Kyle told CARTMAN and not him?! He trembled a little at that ridiculous idea, wearily noticing a rotund figure bustling behind the front counter out of the corner of his eye.

"Hey, Ken! Break's over! We need you back here!"

"...Sorry, man." The blond slipped out of his seat and stole a final fry, reaching out and lightly putting a hand on Stan's arm. "Duty calls. We can talk about it tomorrow or something, okay? Maybe you should just call Kyle and see what's-"

"Can I stay at your house tonight?" Stan cut him off and looked up suddenly. He didn't know what else to say, but he couldn't go back to Kyle's and he sure didn't want to go back to his own house right now. If he had to hear one or both of his parents yelling today... "Please."

Surprisingly, he didn't have to elaborate further before heard a clink and felt a cold thing in his palm. Stan looked down at the key in his hand in shock, slowly glancing back up to meet the little smile that gleamed back at him.

"Just leave it unlocked for me. I'll bring home some dinner after I get off at five, okay?"

Stan nodded mutely in response, fingers clasping around the key. Kenny waved at him and trotted back off behind the front counter, disappearing behind a shelf stacked with cardboard boxes. Slowly, Stan gripped the precious thing between his fingers and clipped it onto the key ring hanging from the belt loop on his jeans, standing and leaving the venue through the back door. The brightness of the sun burned his eyes slightly as he turned, hopping onto his bike where it was chained up and unlocking it from its post.

"_Don't you know? Kyle is supposed to be your...best friend." _

He winced, trying to mentally drown out the smug tone of the voice in his head. He'd have to have a talk with Cartman sometime.

"_So surely you've heard."_

Stan kicked up his kickstand and pedaled off as fast as he could.

~o~

I hope my writing is still easy to read. I will try to post more regularly!

Thank you for reading so far!


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